Should Have Been Me
by moviemom44
Summary: Both Rangers know they feel something special for one another, but before they can find out what, a new woman enters Gage's life. Will she replace Sydney in his heart, or prove that Sydney is truly the only one for him? Based on parts of 'Tall Cotton'.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: OK, confession time. I wrote most of this a long time ago, right after I first saw 'Tall Cotton.' I loved how the relationship with his sister showed a whole other side of Gage and I wanted to explore some of that in a story. Since then, I've come to think of this as a 'how it all began' story for Gage and Sydney, but I honestly don't have any real idea how to proceed from here, so updates may be slow in coming. Please review and let me know if this is worth struggling with at all.

Author's Note, Part 2: It will look like there has been a new update to the story, when in fact, all I did was correct a continuity error in Chapter 1. Please forgive the confusion. Virtual cookies to anyone who can tell what I changed and why I had to change it.

Should Have Been Me

By

Moviemom44

"Trivette!" Gage called to his fellow Ranger as he took cover behind the open driver's door of his pickup truck. Sydney was crouched in an almost identical position on the passenger side.

A hail of bullets forced him to duck below the driver's window that had been shot out moments before, pinning him against the inside of the door. From there he had to look behind him to see Trivette standing just outside his own vehicle, taking aim at the four heavily armed men shooting at the Rangers from inside a large shed. He shouted again over the gunfire.

"Trivette, cover me! I have to get to my sister!"

He waited a few more agonizing seconds while another round of shots were exchanged before finally turning around and making eye contact with Trivette, who nodded to let Gage know he had his back.

At the sound of Trivette's first shot, Gage took off for the barn where B.J. Ronson and his men had stashed Julie after they had kidnapped her from the Tall Cotton nightclub two days before. His heart was pounding as he offered up a silent prayer that he'd find her alive. Ronson hadn't avoided prosecution for more than a decade by leaving loose ends.

Rounding the side of the barn, Gage charged into the main stall area and saw Slater bending over his sister, preparing to stick a hypodermic needle into her arm as she lay on a cot next to a stall gate. Gage came at Slater on a dead run, leaping up and landing a spinning back kick directly to his right shoulder, knocking him across the aisle that separated the stalls on either side of the barn. Slater recovered and came at Gage wielding the heroin-filled needle like a switchblade. Another spinning back kick dislodged the needle and sent it skittering across the concrete floor to land harmlessly beside a water bucket, but Slater was still very much a threat. He landed a solid punch to Gage's midsection, doubling him over and knocking the wind out of him. Still trying to catch his breath, Gage felt himself being lifted off his feet as Slater slammed him against the metal rails of a stall gate and began crushing his windpipe with his vice-strong left hand.

"Die!" Slater screamed, the veins in his neck bulging from the force he was exerting on Gage's body.

Gage's vision blurred and his lungs were on fire. He tried to gain a foothold on the gate to push himself loose, but to no avail. Realizing his left arm was free, he brought it up over his head and slammed his elbow onto the top of Slater's head with the force of a jackhammer. Reeling backwards, Slater lost his hold on Gage, who managed to land on his feet but took two seconds too long to catch his breath. Slater came at him with both fists flying and caught Gage on the chin, lifting his face toward the ceiling. A steam pipe overhead caught Gage's eye. Leaping straight up, he grabbed the pipe, pulled his knees to his chest and kicked Slater in the head with both feet. Slater swayed like a lace curtain on a summer breeze and collapsed in the middle of the aisle.

"Francis! Francis!" Julie called out as Gage dropped to the floor, landing gracefully on his feet.

"Oh, sweetie, are you alright? Are you okay?" Gage asked, quickly taking stock of her visible injuries.

"Look what they did to me!" Julie wailed.

Coming through the barn entrance, Sydney watched as Gage cradled his sister's battered body against his heaving chest. He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair, whispering words of comfort over and over.

"It's okay, sweetie. It's all over now. I'm here now. You're gonna be okay," he promised. Remembering what Gage had told her about the beatings he and Julie had suffered at their foster home, Sydney's heart broke as she realized he must have said those words to his sister a hundred times over the years, every time wishing that he was the one who was hurt instead of her.

Gage hated seeing Julie like this. Hated the bruises and scrapes on her face and neck. Hated the needle marks on her arms, the dazed look in her eyes. But most of all, he hated how it reminded him of when they were little and Julie had taken a beating he might have otherwise had to endure.

Even now, full-grown and a Texas Ranger, having just punched and kicked one of her attackers to a bloody pulp, he still felt as helpless to combat her pain as he had when their foster father had come at her with a thick leather belt when he was only nine and she was just eleven. A skinny fourth grader is no match for a drunken dockworker. All he could do, all he could ever do, was hold her and whisper the same hopeful mantra over and over again – "Everything will be okay."

Tears stung the back of Sydney's eyes as she dug in Slater's pocket and found the keys to the handcuffs that bound Julie to the stall railing, worked the lock and freed her wrist. Instantly, Julie turned and buried her face in Gage's neck as he picked her up to carry her to the ambulance that had just pulled up in front of the barn.

"Syd – " he started to say, nodding toward the unconscious thug on the barn floor.

"I've got this. You just get your sister to the hospital, and don't even think about coming in to work until she's on her feet again."

"Thanks, Syd, I owe you one."

"You owe me a whole bunch, but what are partners for?"

He smiled back at her and something in his eyes held her gaze for an extra heartbeat. Then two. Somewhere in that fleeting span of time, a tiny spark ignited in Sydney's heart. Could the look she'd seen in Gage's eyes have been the twin to that spark? What would that mean? She shook her head, silently reminding herself that while Gage was kind, funny and excruciatingly handsome, he was also her partner and therefore not dating material. Period. But she hadn't imagined the connection she'd felt a moment ago. Maybe, she told herself, he was just conveying an extra measure of gratitude because she understood how much he needed to be with his sister.

While Sydney pondered the possibilities, two EMTs wheeled a gurney next to Gage and he turned to gently lay Julie on it. As the med techs rolled the gurney back toward the ambulance, Sydney could see Julie's slender fingers holding white-knuckle tight to her little brother's powerful hand.

Slater started to stir, moaning as he rolled onto his back. Sydney grabbed her handcuffs from the back of her belt, used her booted foot to roll him back onto his stomach and then forcefully tightened the cuffs on his wrists. When she stood up again, she saw the ambulance pulling away and for one brief moment a feeling of abject panic overtook her. She should have gone with him. What if he needed her and she wasn't there?

Gage sat huddled in a corner near the driver's compartment of the ambulance, trying in vain to keep his bulky body out of the way of the EMTs as they worked to treat Julie's wounds and start an IV of some medication he didn't catch the name of to reverse the effects of the heroin in her system.

As the ambulance screamed down the highway, he tried to focus on Julie's face as she lay, eyes closed, breathing evenly, on the gurney in front of him, but all he could see was Sydney silhouetted against the glow of the September sunset as she stood in the doorway of the barn, her face a mere shadow, her velvety black hair dancing on the breeze. He wondered if she wished she could have come with him in the ambulance. And then he wondered why it mattered, because, he suddenly realized, it did matter. A lot.

He couldn't remember when it happened, when he had begun to think of Sydney as more than a fellow Ranger, more than his partner at work. When they were first assigned to the undercover unit to ferret out El Leon and shut down his drug operation, he had been annoyed to be saddled with a rookie and a female one at that. But over the course of the nine-month investigation, Sydney had more than proven herself. She could shoot, fight and think on her feet better than any partner he had ever had.

When he'd gotten the opportunity to join Company B, he was pleasantly surprised when Walker and Trivette consulted him on who he might like to have as a partner. Being the new guy in the unit, he figured he'd be partnered with a Company B veteran, but given the choice, he told Walker there was no one he'd rather work with than Ranger Sydney Cooke. Her reputation from the El Leon operation preceded her and Walker and Trivette readily agreed to reunite her and Gage in Dallas.

That had been nearly six months ago and already the two junior Rangers had compiled an impressive arrest record, often solving cases that other agencies had all but given up on. Sydney was nearly as adept at navigating the Internet as Trivette was and Gage had a way of knowing just which button to push to get a suspect to reveal things he probably wouldn't have told his own mother. And when it came to hand-to-hand combat, the pair had an almost mystical connection that brought fighting to a whole new level; they were the Fred and Ginger of tae kwan do, with their opponents' hospital records attesting to their skill. It had reached the point where the word on the street was that if Rangers Gage and Cooke were after you, you were better off surrendering than resisting arrest. Of course, law-breakers rarely do what's best for them.

Gage was brought back to the crisis at hand when the ambulance pulled up to the emergency room entrance at St. Matthew's Hospital and the pretty blond EMT tending Julie spoke to him.

"Ranger Gage, you stay put until we get her out, OK? Don't look so worried; all her vitals are strong. She's going to be fine," she said, patting Gage's shoulder in a comrades-in-arms kind of way. He thought he recognized her from other incidents he'd been involved in. A quick glance at her nametag told him he was right. Last week, C. Wright had patched up two drug dealers who apparently hadn't gotten the memo about the dangers of resisting arrest with Cooke and Gage.

"Thanks a lot – uh…" He let his response hang, hoping she would fill in the blank. She smiled when she caught his drift and Gage felt the warmth in her eyes all the way down to his toes.

'Callie. Callie Wright, at your service," she said, tossing him a mock salute as she and her male partner carefully unloaded Julie and started rolling her toward the ER's automatic doors.

"Thanks a lot, Callie, for everything," Gage said, sincerely.

"No thanks necessary. All part of the friendly service," she answered quickly before launching a litany of medical jargon in the general direction of the first doctor who approached the gurney. The doctor nodded, asked a few questions, which Callie answered with more medical gobble-de-gook, and then turned a harsh eye on Gage.

"You'll have to wait out here for now. I'll let you know how she's doing after I've had a chance to look her over," he stated matter-of-factly, before pushing through the double doors that separated the waiting and reception area from the treatment rooms.

Gage sat down to wait, wondering why his reaction to Callie's smile made him feel like he'd just been somehow unfaithful to his partner.


	2. Chapter 2

Should Have Been Me -- Chapter 2

A/N: For all who reviewed Chapter 1, thanks very much. -- Wendie

The pale, fragile figure in the hospital bed bore almost no resemblance to the feisty firecracker Gage grew up worshiping. He sat in a chair next to Julie's bed, watching her sleep. He wished he could hold her, but what with all the tubes and wires attached to her, he settled for holding her hand instead.

"We got him, Jules. We got Ronson. Now you have to get better so you can help us put him away for good," he told her, unsure whether or not she could hear him. The doctors had told him she was in a medically-induced coma, which would allow her body to purge itself of the heroin addiction without the violent side effects associated with stopping 'cold turkey.' Apparently, it didn't matter that the stuff had been forcibly injected into her bloodstream against her will; all her body knew was that it had begun to depend on the frequent doses.

Initially, Gage had been skeptical of the relatively new procedure, known as rapid detox. He questioned whether something so extreme was warranted when the drugs had only been in Julie's system for a few days. He was convinced only when the doctors informed him that the levels of heroin in Julie's blood were extremely high for such a short-term exposure. They said they didn't want to risk the shock her body would endure in withdrawal. Heart attacks and strokes were not unheard of in such cases, they said. Gage wasn't about to gamble with his sister's life. He had signed on all the dotted lines a few hours after she was brought in to the emergency room.

None of which made it any easier to see her like this. Her long, slender body looked so _brittle_, like she might shatter if he touched her, but as he watched her sleeping, a shaft of sunlight from the window opposite the bed fell across her face and he was struck by her expression. She looked beyond content; she looked peaceful. Perhaps she had heard him tell her about Ronson after all.

A light knock on the door was accompanied by a whispered, "Hello?"

"Oh, hey, Syd, come in," Gage called softly as he rose from the chair and ushered his partner into the room. "She's still in the coma," he volunteered, anticipating her first question before she even asked it.

"Did they say how long this was going to take?" she asked, turning to look at Julie. Taking in her calm expression, Sydney watched the sun move across her face and transform her short, blond hair into a golden halo.

_She looks like an angel,_ Sydney mused.

"The doctors said they would probably be able to start waking her up tomorrow," Gage answered, bringing Sydney out of her reverie.

"Start waking her up?"

"Apparently, it's a process; it can take a day or more for them to reverse the effects of the drugs they used to induce the coma. I won't rest easy until she's sitting up ordering the nurses around, which she will, but at least for now she's resting comfortably."

"Speaking of rest, I don't suppose you've had any sleep since you found her, have you?"

"Why? Do I look that bad?"

"Take my advice and close your eyes before you bleed to death. I haven't seen eyes that bloodshot since my college roommate found and smoked her boyfriend's entire stash of weed."

One blond eyebrow shot skyward.

"No, I wasn't with her at the time," Sydney said, wryly, in reply to his silent question. "I saw her afterward, when she came home and told me she did it because she caught him cheating on her with one of her sorority sisters."

"Ouch."

"That's probably what she said when he came to our room two days later and beat her to within an inch of her life," Sydney told him, shadows of pain and anger filling her eyes.

"Oh, Syd, I'm sorry. I didn't mean –"

"It's OK. It was a long time ago."

"The look in your eyes tells me it still feels pretty fresh," he gently argued, moving toward her and taking her hand in his. "What happened after that?"

"She pressed charges, he spent the rest of his college years in prison and I changed my major from philosophy to criminal justice the very next day. I guess, in a way, the stupid… jerk… did me… a… favor," she answered haltingly as she looked down at Gage's thumb slowly stroking the backs of her fingers and then back up at his soft gray-blue eyes. Why was it suddenly so hard for her to catch her breath?

_He did me a favor, too,_ Gage thought, as the feel of her hand in his sent a rush of pleasure zinging to nerve endings nowhere near his thumb. Where had that come from? In the year and half since they'd first met, they must have touched one another a million times, in one way or another, but this was different – scary different. He dropped her hand like a hot horseshoe and quickly tried to cover by using his own hand to scratch a non-existent itch on the back of his neck.

Another tap on the door had both Rangers scrambling for composure. Gage recovered first.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened and a petite, bespectacled woman in pink surgical scrubs entered followed immediately by Trivette.

"Am I interrupting?" Trivette asked, looking from Gage to Sydney and back again. He didn't miss the fleeting look of panic that passed across both the younger Rangers' faces before Gage cleared his throat and spoke firmly.

"No, of course not."

"Well, actually, you are – all of you," the nurse corrected him from the opposite side of Julie's bed.

"Sorry, Liz, we'll get out of your way," Gage apologized, adding, "This is my partner, Ranger Sydney Cooke and our colleague, Ranger James Trivette. Liz is doing an amazing job taking care of Julie."

Both Rangers moved to shake hands with the nurse, who nodded politely to Gage's friends and then looked over her glasses at Gage as though he were a naughty child.

"Sweet talk won't get you anywhere with me, Ranger boy. I thought I told you last night to go home and get some sleep. You look like death warmed over. Do you want to scare this poor child back into a coma when she wakes up and sees what a mess you are?" Liz scolded him, her fists planted firmly on her hips.

"Liz also thinks she has to take care of me," Gage explained as he walked around the bed and gave her a quick hug. Apparently the fiftyish woman with sparkling green eyes and graying blond hair was immune to Gage's charm, since she continued undaunted.

"Somebody has to, since you're doing such a lousy job of it yourself. Can I get one of you two to promise me you will drag his sorry butt home and put him to bed?" she asked, looking directly at Sydney, whose cheeks turned a fetching shade of pink.

"Me? Uh, no, um, I have to get back to work," Sydney stuttered, shooting Gage a visual SOS.

"Alright, alright, Liz," Gage conceded, coming to Sydney's rescue. "We're going and I _promise_ I'll go home and get some sleep. I'll be back at dinnertime. Satisfied?"

"Not since my husband ran off with his secretary, but I don't guess that's your fault, huh, sugar?" she shot back, her grin turning into a full-blown cackle as she watched all three Rangers' eyes widen at the risqué meaning behind her answer.

Gage leaned over and placed a tender kiss on Julie's forehead.

"I'll see you later, sweetie. I don't want to leave you, but Miss Liz insists. I only listen to her because she's so good to you," he whispered, flashing a wink and a wicked grin in Liz's direction.

But all efforts to charm the nurse ceased as soon as she reached for the food tray on the table near Julie's bed. Gage beat a hasty retreat, practically shoving his two friends out the door ahead of him.

All but running down the hall, Gage was pulled up short by a very short, very loud whistle. _Aw, hell._

"Hey, Ranger Trivette! Does that gun of yours shoot real bullets?" Liz called from Julie's door.

Cringing without knowing why, Trivette answered her without turning around. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. You might have to use it to convince your big, blond friend there to actually eat something sometime soon, since he hasn't touched either dinner last night or breakfast this morning."

"I'm on it, ma'am. You can count on me," Trivette pledged as he glared at Gage. Hearing the door go shut, he figured it was safe to move again and did just that with all due speed, dragging Gage by the arm.

"You, buddy, are going to C.D.'s. Now. Do not pass 'Go'. Do not collect two hundred dollars. You will either eat your usual enormous lunch with your own two hands or I will tell C.D. to feed it to you after I handcuff you to the chair. After lunch, C.D. will drive you home and see to it that you go to sleep, once again, either under your own power, or the power of his swift left hook. Are we clear?"

Gage had rarely seen Trivette so whipped up. He couldn't understand why everyone was making such a fuss over him. On the one hand, being told what to do was getting pretty annoying, but on the other hand, it was kind of nice that his friends were so concerned about him. For most of his life, Julie had been the only person who cared what happened to him, one way or the other. Now he had a whole bunch of people fretting over his welfare. Yeah, it was pretty nice.

"I said, are we clear?" Trivette repeated when Gage was slow to answer.

"Crystal."

"Speaking of glass, have a look at yourself in this one," Trivette directed as he steered Gage to the glass panel separating the reception area from the hallway.

Gage couldn't believe his eyes. Heck, he almost couldn't find his eyes for the dark circles that seemed to sink them into his face, giving him a skull-like appearance. He was even a weird shade of gray, which he could probably chalk up to two days worth of stubble and hospital lighting, but even so, he looked bloody awful.

"God, Syd, you guys weren't kidding. I can't let Julie see me like this; she'd skin me alive if I got sick worrying about her," he said.

"She'd have to get in line," Sydney replied, stepping past him and out through the hospital's front doors.

The trio had to pass the ER ambulance bay on the way to the parking garage where Trivette and Sydney had parked. Since Gage had come to the hospital in the ambulance with Julie, Sydney had taken his truck back to headquarters and then brought her own car to the hospital. Now, the plan was for Gage to ride with Sydney over to C.D.'s while Trivette followed in his Mustang. Apparently, he took his charge as Gage's lunch guardian very seriously.

Just as they cleared the ambulance bay, Gage heard a familiar female voice call his name.

"Ranger Gage?"

Sydney saw Gage's head snap toward the voice and then watched as his lips curved into a mile-wide smile when his gaze lit on the speaker.

"Callie! Hey, how are you?" Gage beamed.

It was obvious to Sydney that he was very happy to see the tall, gorgeous blond woman wearing an EMT uniform who was rising up on tiptoe _to plant a kiss on his cheek!_

"How's your sister doing?" Callie asked, when her lips were no longer busy.

"She's still out from the coma drugs, but the last report I got was that she's improving," Gage replied, still smiling.

Is he actually staring at her, Sydney wondered, or is he just dazed from lack of sleep?

"I know when I saw you last night, you were concerned about going through with the procedure. I'm glad everything is going well so far," Callie offered, as she reached out and _rubbed his elbow!_

Last night? Sydney hadn't been able to get to the hospital last night because she was busy doing all the follow up work on the arrests in Julie's case, so that Gage could keep a lonely vigil at his sister's bedside – not be comforted by some EMT who looked more like a swimsuit model than a public servant.

"Talking to you really helped a lot, Callie. I appreciate you coming back to check on Julie and filling me in on the rapid detox procedure. I know now it was the best thing for her. Thanks so much," Gage said, and _gave her a hug!_

Sydney's blood pressure was escalating exponentially with every touch Gage and Callie exchanged, but that hug sent it off the charts.

"Ahem!" Sydney barked, loudly clearing her throat and stepping to within an inch of Gage's left side the instant Callie vacated the spot.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Callie Wright, this is my partner, Ranger Sydney Cooke, and our colleague, Ranger James Trivette. Callie and her partner are the ones who brought Julie and me to the hospital." Gage pointed to each of his friends as he introduced them, adding, "I guess sleep deprivation dulled my manners, or I'd have introduced you right away."

_That's not all that's dull around here._

Sydney bit back her first response in favor of saying through the gritted teeth of a forced smile, "It's nice to meet you, Callie."

"Same here, Sydney," Callie replied, her eyebrows furrowing as she registered the steely stare and extra firm handshake she received from Gage's beautiful dark-haired partner. _What the heck is she so mad about?_


	3. Chapter 3

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 3

A/N: To all who read and/or reviewed the previous chapters, my deepest gratitude. Without you, it's all just wasted time.

-----

Callie couldn't recall doing or saying anything to this woman that would have warranted the frigid glare she was getting, so Ranger Cooke's intensely negative reaction had to somehow be related to Ranger Gage.

_Oh, so that's how it is, _she thought as she silently assessed the petite woman before her. She was a good match for her partner, Callie decided. Her well-toned body radiated strength and fitness. Her deep, brown eyes revealed an intelligent, compassionate soul, even though none of that compassion would be coming Callie's way – at least not yet.

_She has no idea what she's in for. I ought to tell her to just turn tail and run right now, before she gets hurt, _Callie mused.

A loud mechanical squawk issued from inside the cab of the ambulance, followed by a male voice announcing a multi-car pile up on Central Expressway near Walnut Hill Lane.

"My master's voice," Callie said, nodding toward the red and white rig. "I have to go. It was nice to meet all of you, and it was good to see you again Ranger Gage. Give my best to your sister," she called over her shoulder as she climbed into the passenger side of the ambulance, while her partner, a tall, lanky man with short black hair, azure blue eyes and tanned skin, got behind the wheel, started the engine and activated the lights and siren.

Gage watched from the sidewalk as they drove away. He was dead on his feet, but he wasn't so tired that he hadn't noticed Sydney's odd behavior toward Callie.

"Would you mind telling me what that was all about?" Gage asked accusingly.

Ignoring his question, Sydney picked up her pace, making a beeline for her Jeep parked near the garage entrance.

Her embarrassment at having been caught acting like a jealous wife was surpassed only by her anger at her own lack of self-control. Who was she anyway to care one way or the other if some leggy, blonde vision of loveliness hugged and kissed her partner? She was just the one who watched his back and saved his butt on a regular basis, the one who worried about him every minute he was out of her sight, the one who wished more and more that they didn't go home every night to separate beds. She saw him first, dammit!

She was jealous-- fire-breathing, hair-tearing jealous -- and she hated _him_ for it. She hated him for being everything she could ever want in a man but would never have because he wanted everything she wasn't – tall, pretty, blonde. The realization hit her so hard it made her hands shake as she tried to get the key into the lock on the driver's door of her Jeep. Her keys hit the ground just as Gage caught up to her and he scooped them up, yanking them out of her reach as she lunged for them.

"Give me my keys, Gage," she demanded.

"Not until you tell me why you were so hostile to Callie," he shot back, releasing her gaze long enough to look behind him to see if Trivette was close enough to hear the budding argument. He spotted the elder Ranger getting into his car a few rows away. Apparently, he had sense enough to duck and cover when a firefight was imminent. Lucky him.

Beyond all reason, Sydney wished that one of two things would happen, either the concrete floor would open up and swallow her, or Gage's truck would magically appear beside them so that he could drive himself to C.D.'s and she could drive herself off the nearest overpass. Sadly, neither event occurred, leaving her with no choice but to lie to her partner for what she hoped would be the first and last time.

"It really has nothing to do with her, per se," Sydney stalled, trying to think of something Gage would actually buy. Finally, she resorted to the one universally accepted excuse that no self-respecting male had the nerve to question.

"If you must know, I'm in pain," she prevaricated, hoping he wouldn't ask, but, being Gage, he did.

"Pain? Syd, what's wrong?" His entire expression shifted in a split second from unmitigated ire to deep concern.

"Cramps! OK? I have really bad cramps. Are you happy now?" she snapped, crunching her abdominal muscles and squinting as though her insides were twisting in knots.

"Geez, Syd, I'm sorry. I had no idea. Is there anything I can do?" His compassionate apology only made her feel that much worse.

"No. Thanks. Can I have my keys now?" she said, wincing from the real pain of a migraine headache that had suddenly burst to life behind her eyes. _That's what I get for lying,_ she thought.

"I've got a better idea. How about if I drive? You look like you could use a break."

"Fine. It hurts too much to argue right now," she said, telling the absolute truth. Her head was really pounding.

Just as she turned to walk around to the passenger side of the Jeep, he moved toward the driver's door. Their shoulders collided abruptly, knocking Sydney off balance as she spun to face him. Reflexively, his hands came up and gripped her shoulders to steady her and keep her from falling against the Jeep.

"Whoa, there!" Gage exclaimed.

He smiled down at her, wanting to assure himself that she was securely on her own two feet before letting her go. Their eyes met and even through the fog of sleeplessness and worry over his sister he recognized the expression he'd seen there yesterday when he'd left her standing in Ronson's barn to carry Julie to the ambulance. He couldn't name it, but he felt it grab hold of something in his soul, something he thought he'd buried a long time ago.

_No. Never again._

He wouldn't resurrect that ghost. He couldn't. He put her away from him and tried mightily to erase the picture of her soft eyes glowing with emotions he was incapable of returning.

Sydney knew the exact moment she'd given herself away. His smile faded and his eyes grew dark, closed off. He let go of her as if she were on fire. He couldn't have made it more apparent that she held no attraction for him whatsoever. At least, he had simply retreated. At least, he had the grace to spare her the humiliation of the 'It's-not-you; it's-me' speech.

'You OK?" he clipped.

"Yeah, fine," she answered without looking at him.

He unlocked the driver's door, climbed in and unlocked the passenger door for Sydney, who got in and buckled her seatbelt as he started the engine.

Neither spoke until they were on the street heading downtown.

When she had finally gained enough inward composure to speak without either crying or shouting, Sydney announced that she wanted to go home.

"I thought you were part of the lunch police assigned to make sure I don't waste away," Gage replied, trying to sound more amusing than sarcastic.

"I'm sure Trivette is more than capable. I'd just be lousy company right now, anyway. Please, Gage, take me home," she pleaded.

"You want me to call Trivette and have him pick me up at your place?"

"No, you can just keep the Jeep and then pick me up tomorrow on your way to work. I just decided I'm done for the day. I'll call Walker when I get home and let him know we're both taking the afternoon off."

Sydney never quit early. Not once during all the months Gage had worked with her had she taken so much as an extra hour for lunch, let alone a sick day or a vacation. Unless they were riding in together, she was always at work before him and almost always stayed later than anyone else, including Walker.

He knew some women became completely incapacitated once a month, but Sydney had never complained of anything like this before. With this coming on so suddenly, he hoped it wasn't more serious than she was letting on. He had enough on his plate with Julie's situation; he didn't need to have to worry about her, too. He refused to acknowledge the possibility that his concern was motivated by anything other than the fact that she was his partner, a necessary part of his work life. It didn't have to be anything personal.

_Yeah, right, _a little voice managed to whisper before he told it to shut up. What did little voices know anyway?

"How late were you up finishing those arrest reports last night?" he asked, suddenly remembering that she'd offered to do all the follow up so he could stay at the hospital.

"You don't want to know. Let's just say you and I probably got about the same amount of sleep last night," she answered as she leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

_A lot you care,_ she silently fumed. _You were snuggling with your Amazon EMT while I was doing your job._ Damn. For a minute there, she'd almost forgotten about _her._

"I really appreciate you handling all of that, Syd. I'm sorry if I was kind of abrupt back there. I didn't realize you were hurting and sleep-deprived, too," he offered.

"It's OK, partner. All is forgiven," she mumbled drowsily, her eyes still closed, her head listing toward the shoulder strap of her seatbelt. Caught in the never, never land of near-sleep, she fell back into the old familiarity and reached out to pat his knee reassuringly, but instead of a quick tap, her fingers lingered on his thigh, giving his quads a slight squeeze.

His arousal was both instantaneous and profound. He couldn't suppress the shocked expression on his face, so he was relieved when he looked at Sydney and discovered that she had dozed off. The sight of her sitting next to him, eyes closed, lips relaxed into a hint of a smile, long, silky hair falling over her shoulder, did nothing to relieve the pressure in his jeans. If anything, it made it worse.

His first instinct was to shove her hand away, but he didn't want to wake her and risk her seeing the result of her mini massage. So instead, with a feather-light touch, he took hold of her wrist, gently lifted it until her hand was free, then carefully placed it on her own leg. By the time he was done, he was drenched in sweat and breathing like a marathon runner. He had also finally arrived at Sydney's house.

Gage pulled up in front and took three deep breaths, all the while fighting the urge to look at her again. He lost.

_Oh, God._

It would be so easy to just lean across the gear shift and cover her soft lips with his, to once and for all satisfy his curiosity about how she would taste when he coaxed her mouth open and slid his tongue…

She startled awake, almost as if she'd heard his thoughts and jerked away to avoid his touch. His fantasy dissipated quickly, but the effects it had on his body lingered for several more agonizing seconds. He hoped the shadows inside the Jeep were deep enough to hide the flush in his cheeks and the tent in his pants.

"Oh, we're here. I must have been more tired than I thought. Sorry I drifted off on you there for a minute," Sydney said, shaking her hair and scrubbing her face with both hands to clear the cobwebs from her sleepy head.

"It's OK. Like you said, all is forgiven," Gage replied.

She had said that, hadn't she? Before her little power nap, she'd been so angry and hurt she couldn't see straight, but now the worst seemed to be behind her. He was still her partner, the best one she could ever hope to have. She couldn't afford to jeopardize that relationship by letting herself believe they could ever be more than partners and friends. Maybe even good friends, if they were lucky.

It had taken weeks for her to get Gage to stop thinking of her as a female, rookie Texas Ranger and just consider her a Texas Ranger, as worthy of the title and the badge as any male partner he'd ever had. If she lost him as a partner, there was no telling how long it might take her to make a believer out of the next one. Maybe never. There were still a few Neanderthals on the force who would never trust a 'little lady' to hold her own on a drug bust, let alone watch their backs in a bar fight.

"Thanks for the ride. I'll call Walker, like I said," Sydney offered as she got out of the Jeep.

"Are you sure you want me to just keep the Jeep?" he asked, adding, "I mean, you might want to go out later, or something."

Leaning through the open passenger side window, she shook her head.

"No, I'll probably be asleep ten minutes after I get inside the house and I don't plan on getting up until the alarm goes off tomorrow morning. Just don't forget to pick me up tomorrow," she cautioned with a smile, wagging her finger at him.

"I won't forget, Syd, mostly because I know you are going to call me as soon as you wake up tomorrow and remind me."

"Which wouldn't be necessary if you hadn't forgotten me – twice – during the El Leon assignment," she teased.

"Now, I never will forget _that_, because you're never going to let me, are you?"

"Nope. We'll be sitting side by side in our rocking chairs at the Ancient Rangers Retirement Home, drooling on our dusty badges, and you'll still hear about it," she returned, laughing.

"I don't doubt it for a minute," he agreed, laughing at the mental picture her comment conjured.

When they stopped laughing, Gage continued, "I guess I better not keep Trivette waiting any longer."

"Guess not. See you tomorrow," Sydney answered and turned to go as Gage put the Jeep in gear and started to pull away from the curb.

Spinning on her heel, Sydney called out, "Hey, Gage!"

He slammed the brakes and peered through the open window, "What?"

She hesitated for a second. _Oh, well, the devil hates a coward. Better just say it and get it over with._

"Callie seems really nice. If you run into her again at the hospital, please tell her I'm sorry I was rude to her. Next time I see her, I'll apologize in person." She was pretty sure she meant every word of it.

"I appreciate that, Syd. If I see her, I'll tell her. Bye."

As she watched him drive away, she couldn't get the image of the two of them growing old together out of her mind. The tears started before she got the front door open and didn't stop until after she'd collapsed, fully dressed, on the couch where just three nights ago she and Gage had watched a Jackie Chan movie and eaten Chinese take-out. She finally drifted off hugging a couch pillow that still bore traces of Gage's cologne.


	4. Chapter 4

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, but my beta and I both got caught up in real life, so the fictional world took a back seat. But we're back now and with not one chapter, but two! Thanks again to all who reviewed the previous chapters.

P.S. Callie's partner, Trent, is not the same Trent who was once a character on WTR. I thought about changing his name to avoid confusion, but I really like the name and it fits my character, so I'm leaving it alone.

-----

Callie woke to her cell phone blaring on the nightstand. Without sitting up, she grabbed it, flipped it open. "Trent?"

"Uh, no. Is this Callie Wright?" said an almost familiar male voice.

"Yes." Silence. Wait. It was coming to her. Got it. "Ranger Gage?"

"Yes. I thought I had a wrong number for a second there. Who's Trent?" His tone was a mixture of relief and puzzlement.

"My partner. Why are you calling me at…two in the morning?" she asked, hesitating while she checked the time on the clock next to the bed.

"I'm sorry. I know it's late and I shouldn't be bothering you. I mean I'm a virtual stranger. You're right to be upset at some guy you barely know calling you at this hour – "

"Ranger Gage?" she interrupted, "You're rambling."

"I'm sorry."

"You said that already. You sound upset. What can I do for you?"

"It's Julie. I'm at the hospital and I know something is wrong, but the doctors won't give me any straight answers. When you talked to me the other night, you really helped me sort out all the medical jargon. You said if I had any more questions I could call you. I'm sorry it's so late, but I'm going crazy not knowing what's happening."

She could hear the fear and confusion in his voice and her heart went out to him. She knew how he felt. Her career choice was rooted in a similar experience, but it had been her mother in the hospital and she'd been only ten years old at the time.

Part of her wished she could say 'No' and go back to sleep, but she knew she wouldn't do either one. He was a nice guy, he was hurting and there was something she could do to help. She made an offer.

"The doctors won't tell me anything directly because of the confidentiality laws, but I suppose I could act as an interpreter for whatever they told you."

"I can't really remember any of what they said. It was happening so fast. She was sleeping peacefully one minute and the next minute all hell broke loose, monitors beeping, lights flashing, people in white coats shoving me out of the room," he rattled off. He sounded scared and alone.

"Give me twenty minutes. Meet me at the third floor nurses station," she directed, throwing back the covers and striding toward the closet.

"Callie, I really appreciate this. I just didn't know what else to do. I'm sor-"

"Don't apologize again. You can buy me breakfast if it will make you feel better. See you in a few minutes." She snapped the phone shut and briefly debated whether to put on her work clothes or go with jeans and a sweatshirt. The uniform made more sense; she'd probably have to go straight to work from the hospital.

-----

Gage pocketed his phone and leaned against the wall across from Julie's door. He probably shouldn't have called Callie, but he didn't know anyone else who could help him.

Sydney would have come if he had called her. He knew that. But she had looked so worn out when he dropped her off at her place earlier. The last thing she needed was to be dragged out of bed just so she could spend the night sitting in uncomfortable chairs, holding his hand, every bit as clueless about Julie's condition as he was. She'd already done her duty and then some by staying up all night to do the arrest reports. Besides, thanks to him, she didn't have any wheels at the moment.

He thought back to the ride to Sydney's place in her Jeep. The memory of her sleeping in the passenger seat next to him gave him goose bumps. It made him wonder what she looked like right now, sleeping in her bed, wearing…what? He let his imagination wander free. His goose bumps got goose bumps.

_Enough,_ he scolded himself. _You went down that road once. All it got you was a bullet in the back and a Dear John letter._

He took his key chain from his pocket and examined the lopsided cylinder of lead dangling from the fob. The .22 caliber slug was a constant reminder that work and romance were a dangerous combination. Half an inch to the left and he'd have spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Not that Lynne had waited around to find out if he would recover or not. She was gone before the anesthesia wore off.

The 'ding' of the elevator brought him back to the present. He turned to see Callie emerge near the nurse's station. She was dressed for work, her crisp white uniform shirt tucked neatly into the waistband of her black slacks. She had corralled her wavy, blond hair into a French braid that hung to shoulders. Gage couldn't detect any makeup on her suntanned face, except whatever it was that made her lips look pink and plump and shiny. He couldn't help but wonder what they would taste like. Strawberry? Cotton candy?

He crossed the hall and stepped into her open arms. He wasn't prepared for how good it felt to be held. The soft assurance of her embrace was like an elixir to his soul. He could almost feel the frustration and fear melting away. Here in her arms, he could rest.

Callie offered him a hug as a simple, friendly greeting. That was just her way. Her mother had always said there were two kinds of people in the world, 'huggers' and 'not huggers'. Callie had always been a hugger. Up until this minute, it had never been a problem.

The second his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her casual gesture became something else, something more powerful. A bond formed in that moment. She felt it in every cell of her body. It was warm and comfortable and, somehow, familiar. He felt like home.

Gage broke the embrace first, letting go of her and stepping back a bit. She looked up into his blue-gray eyes. They were shining with unshed tears.

The connection was strong. Undeniable. He felt as if he had known her his whole life. No one had ever stirred such a powerful reaction in him. Well, no one except Sydney. But those feelings were different – more passionate, less safe.

"Are you OK?" Callie spoke first. Somebody had to.

"No," was all he could manage before his face crumbled and the tears flowed.

-----

Exhaustion. Worry. Hunger.

Perfect ingredients for a breakdown.

Throw in confusion, panic and abject terror at the thought of his only sister dying and it was no wonder Gage suddenly found himself collapsing into the chair next to Julie's door, sobbing.

All at once, he was eight years old again, listening to a tall man with a star-shaped badge tell him and his sister their parents were never coming home. Only this time, Julie couldn't be there for him to cling to and cry on. Now, she was the one who might not make it home.

Callie's heart broke for this man she hardly knew. No, she took that back. She might not know the details of his life – like, for instance, his first name – but somehow she knew _him._ She knew he loved his sister fiercely. She knew he was not used to leaning on other people. She knew he had no idea his partner was in love with him. If he did, she'd be here instead of her.

Kneeling next to his chair, Callie reached over and took his hand in hers. He turned to look at her.

"When was the last time you ate or slept?" she asked. She'd seen this before. Family members often ceased caring for themselves while they stood vigil over a loved one. Her grandfather had passed out once from exhaustion and dehydration while waiting for word on her mother.

"I can't leave her. What if – "

"Just answer the question," Callie interrupted. Her tone was firm, not pushy.

His head was cloudy; it was hard to remember the past ten minutes, let alone anything beyond that. He tried to focus. A thin sliver of memory broke through the haze. He thought back to Liz decreeing that he eat and sleep before returning to the hospital. That forced him to recall the near-fight with Sydney. What was that about again? Oh, yeah, her being rude to Callie for no apparent reason. But she had a reason, right? Something about her being in pain. He drove her home. That he remembered too clearly. _Don't go there._

Then what? Lunch with Trivette at C.D.'s. He had ordered a bowl of chili and a large salad. C.D. brought him two bowls of chili and told him he needed protein – not rabbit food. He'd forced down the chili only because Trivette laid his handcuffs on the table as incentive.

After lunch, he talked Trivette into letting him drive himself home to take a nap. He would apologize to Jimmy later for disobeying orders and returning to the hospital instead. Forgiveness was always easier to get than permission.

"Slept, don't remember. Ate, this afternoon," he huffed out as he fought to calm his breathing.

"That explains a lot. You need to sleep. C'mon," she stated, taking his hand and standing up.

"I'm not leaving her." He remained rooted to the chair. His hand slid out of hers.

It was a commonly held belief; his presence was the difference between life and death. As long as he was here, she couldn't die. If he left, the worst would happen. It was a myth that only served to provide a false sense of control in the midst of chaos. In truth, his being here only meant she couldn't die alone. The grown up in him knew that; the little boy couldn't have cared less.

"Nobody is asking you to leave. There is a perfectly good couch right over there in the lounge." She angled her chin in the general direction of the furnished area across from the nurse's station. "Go lay down on it. I'll stay here and keep an eye on Julie."

He started to protest. She touched her finger to his lips.

"I swear on my EMT badge to wake you if anything happens, anything at all."

It would be good to close his eyes for a while, just a few minutes. After all, he'd called her at this ridiculous hour specifically because she knew her way around the hospital, because she could speak its language. If a crisis erupted, she would know. He wanted to trust her to stand watch, but he couldn't seem to make the leap.

As if she read his thoughts, she said, "I make a great lookout. Cross my heart." She made an invisible 'X' over her heart with her finger.

He felt like he was clawing through a thousand miles of spider webs in slow motion. Callie's words dragged him back in time, back through the last twenty years to a playground on the outskirts of Houston. They were playing capture-the-flag. No girls allowed. She was maybe ten, with curly blonde hair and sea-green eyes. She wanted to play, too.

"_I make a great lookout. Cross my heart."_

She couldn't be. Could she?

Julie's door opened and a middle-aged man with white hair stepped out. He was handsome in a gentlemanly sort of way, with blue eyes and an impeccably groomed, thick, white mustache that all but overwhelmed his mouth.

Gage came out of the chair like a shot, his flashback forgotten.

"Dr. Blair, what's happening with Julie?" Gage choked out as he wiped the moisture from his face with his palms.

"Her heart rate slowed to a critical level for a few minutes, but we've got it back up to normal. She's sleeping now," he offered.

"She's been sleeping since she got here! When are you people going to wake her up? She has to wake up!" He tried not to shout. He really tried.


	5. Chapter 5

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 5

A/N: These two chapters (4 and 5) initially were quite different. The story took a sharp left turn I wasn't quite prepared for, but lots of re-reading and great advice from my beta got me back on the right road. I'll try to steer straight from now on. Your reviews are more valuable than you know.

-----

"Ranger Gage, why don't we sit down in the lounge and I'll explain," Dr. Blair replied in a well-practiced tone designed to stroke frazzled nerves. As usual, it worked.

"I just want to understand what happened," Gage replied more calmly. The three of them walked to the lounge across from the nurse's station. Gage took a seat on one end of a low-backed green couch. Callie sat next to him. Dr. Blair eased himself into a matching chair that faced the couch.

"I'm going to be straight with you, Ranger Gage. The truth is, we don't know why this happened. My best guess is that it took her body less time to detoxify than we expected. Once the heroin was out of her system, the coma drugs put too much stress on her heart. We've stepped up the procedure to reverse the coma and she's responded well. When I said she was sleeping before, that's what I meant. She's no longer in a coma; she's simply sleeping."

Relief welled up in him like a tidal wave. He shook with the force of it.

Callie took his hands in hers. She knew he wouldn't want the doctor to see him trembling.

He couldn't let go of the fear. He had to be sure.

"Will she really be alright? I mean, uh, what about her heart?"

"We're watching her closely, but we have no reason to suspect there is any permanent damage whatsoever. She's going to need a lot of rest for the next few days, but she'll be right as rain, Ranger Gage. I assure you," Dr. Blair promised.

Gage let go of Callie's hands, stood up on weary legs and offered an unsteady paw to the man with all the good news. On his feet again, Dr. Blair took Gage's hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Thank you, Dr. Blair. Thank you." He wanted to say more, but the lump in his throat wouldn't allow it.

Turning to Callie, the doctor smiled. "It's good to see you again, Callie. I assume Julie is one of yours?" One white eyebrow lifted and his blue eyes took on a mischievous light.

"Yes, sir. Trent and I brought her in," she answered sheepishly as she stood next to Gage, her hands in her pants pockets.

Gage wondered why she seemed embarrassed all of a sudden.

"You do remember that your obligation stops at the emergency room doors, right? It's our job to handle things from there. They even pay us to do it," the doctor teased.

Apparently, Gage realized, Callie's extra measure of dedication wasn't limited to Julie's case – or him. His admiration for her went up a notch.

"I know, I know. I'm getting better. Julie is the only case I checked on…yesterday," she conceded with a smile.

Callie knew her penchant for checking up on her cases annoyed some of the doctors. Dr. Blair wasn't one of them.

It wasn't that she didn't trust the doctors; the staff at St. Matthew's was top notch, especially Dr. Blair. But after seeing people wracked with pain, in the worst of circumstances, she always tried to see them at least once after they'd been treated and the healing had begun.

Part of it was simply satisfying her curiosity. Visiting her former charges answered the question, "What happened next?" The deeper reason was more selfish than that. Seeing the ones who recovered helped her deal with the ones that didn't. When she and Trent were too late to help, or too late to be the difference between life and death, despite all their care and speedy transport, she held tight to the memories of the ones they did save. It almost always worked.

"Well, if there's nothing else I can do for you, I'll be on my way," Dr. Blair said. He shook hands with Gage and Callie one last time and turned toward the elevators.

"Actually, Dr. Blair, there is one thing you could do," Gage called after him.

"Oh? What is it?"

"As long as Julie is sleeping, I might as well get some shuteye, too, but I don't want to leave the hospital. Is there a cot or something that could be put in Julie's room?"

"I'll have one of the extra cots sent down from Pediatrics. We only have one mom spending the night tonight," he said, picking up the nurse's station phone to call Pediatrics. "I'm glad you offered to put yourself to bed, since I was considering ordering you a sedative. You look like forty miles of bad road."

"So I've been told. Now that I know she's going to be alright, I won't need the sedative, believe me. Thanks for the bed, doc."

"You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow," the doctor said and turned his attention to the phone call to Pediatrics.

Callie touched Gage's arm. He turned to look at her.

"I should go. They'll have that bed down here in a minute and –"

He touched a finger to her lips to quiet her, just as she had done to him earlier.

"Thank you, Callie. You can't imagine how much it meant to me to have you here." He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pulled her into an all-encompassing embrace. He held her with more than his arms; his whole body seemed to curve around her, engulfing her in his warmth and gratitude.

"But I didn't do anything. You didn't even need an interpreter," she protested mildly, caught off-guard by the flood of emotions his presence awoke in her.

She moved away from him slightly so she could look into his blue-gray eyes, study his kind, gentle face. Why did he remind her of sunshine and merry-go-rounds? She hadn't played on a merry-go-round since the summer her mother died and she'd gone to live with Granddad in Houston.

The oddest look came over his face, as if he were watching the memories unfold behind her eyes.

"Did you ever live in Houston?" he asked.

"What's your first name?" she asked. They spoke simultaneously, their questions overlapping.

"You first," Callie acquiesced. She could hardly catch her breath. The world couldn't be this small, could it?

"Francis. Your turn." His heart was beating a mile a minute.

"The summer I turned ten, after my mother died, I went to live in a small town just outside of Houston with my grandfather. I met a blue-eyed boy named Francis who let me be the lookout for capture-the-flag. I can't believe it!" she gushed as she hugged him again.

The memories came in a rush. Escaping to the playground while the couple that managed the group home slept off their latest binge. Trying unsuccessfully to ditch the little blond curly top that lived with old Mr. Harrington. Finally relenting and letting her join the game when she offered to bring him and his foster brothers peanut butter sandwiches to quiet their rumbling stomachs. Jack and Jill Henson, his tragically misnamed foster parents, never wasted good beer money on food.

Given the choice, Gage would have rather forgotten about most of his childhood, at least the part after his parents were killed in the car accident. Life in the Henson's foster group home was a miserable litany of endless chores and frequent beatings. Most nights, he and Julie went to bed hungry and bruised.

"I might have starved to death that summer if it hadn't been for you and those peanut butter sandwiches," he acknowledged as he stepped out of her arms and smiled down at her. "Here it is twenty years later and you're still coming to my rescue."

Callie looked up at him in wonder. "Looking at you now, I can't believe I didn't recognize you. I'd never seen eyes your color before in my life and I've never seen it since. You stole my heart with those eyes. I had a terrible crush on you that summer, you know."

Before Gage could absorb that revelation, the elevator doors opened and an orderly pushed a folded up rollaway bed out into the hallway and parked it next to the nurse's station.

"This is the cot for Room 334," he told the dark-haired nurse seated at the desk.

"Oh, hey, that's for me," Gage called as he jogged the few paces from the lounge to the desk. Over his shoulder he said, "Callie, can you wait just a minute? I'll be right back."

"Sure, but don't you want to just hit the sack?" she offered.

He turned to face her, a slow smile spreading across his face. His eyebrows wiggled up and down.

It took her a second to figure out what that look was for. When she did, her eyes flew open and her cheeks turned fire engine red.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that!"

Gage had the grace not to laugh, but it wasn't easy.

"I meant, I know how tired you are, and I thought you'd just want to go right to sleep," she explained. Her cheeks were fading to a pretty pink, but Gage's next comment ramped them up again.

"Spoilsport. So much for your crush, huh?" Why on earth was he flirting with this woman in a hospital hallway at three o'clock in the morning? Probably because he liked watching her blush.

"Now cut that out, Francis, or I won't be here when you get back," she threatened, wagging her finger at him.

"OK, OK. But I do still owe you breakfast and, frankly, I'm starving. What time do they serve breakfast downstairs?"

"All night, I think."

Gage turned back around to get the cot and discovered it had disappeared. He shot a puzzled look at the desk nurse and she pointed to Julie's room. Gage went and peeked in the door and found the cot set up under the window on the other side of Julie's bed. The covers were all ready turned down. Nice.

Breakfast could wait.

"Uh, Callie?"

"I'll take a rain check, Francis. I'd just as soon go home and get what's left of a good night's sleep myself," she answered, knowingly. She had crossed the hallway and stood next to him at Julie's door.

"Thanks again. Can I call you later? Maybe we can have lunch instead?"

"Sure, depending on how my shift goes. It's really good to see you again, Francis, and I'm glad Julie is going to be OK." She started to leave, but he took hold of her hand. She waited.

"My friends call me Gage. Julie's really the only one who still calls me Francis. Except for her, it kind of carries a lot of negative stuff for me." His eyes filled with shadows of long-ago cruelty.

"OK, Gage. Sweet dreams." She kissed him on the cheek and headed back to the elevator. When the doors opened, she got in and gave a wiggly-fingered wave as the doors closed.

In took about half a minute for Gage to kiss Julie on the forehead, kick off his shoes and collapse onto the cot. The thing barely contained his six-foot frame, and he struggled for the other half of the minute to find a comfortable position.

Closing his eyes, he smiled at the way Callie had blushed at the idea of 'hitting the sack'. A few deep breaths later, he was sound asleep. And, sure enough, he dreamed.

He dreamed of sweaty sheets, tangled bodies, long, raven hair and deep, brown eyes filled with love. It was the best nightmare he ever had.


	6. Chapter 6

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 6

_I knew it. I knew he'd forget me._

Gage was thirty minutes late, and Sydney _so _did not want to think about what might be keeping him. She also didn't relish the idea of calling him as she had threatened to do yesterday. What if what's-her-name answered the phone?

Against her will, maddening images flashed through her mind. Gage and Callie wake up together in his bed after a long night of passionate lovemaking. The two of them greet each other with a kiss that leads to more of the same. Gage reluctantly climbs out of bed and takes a shower while Callie stretches languidly amid the sheets, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. The phone rings. Callie answers it.

"_Oh, hi, Sydney. No. Gage is in the shower. He was supposed to pick you up? Oops, sorry. We just couldn't keep our hands off each other. God, he's so amazing in bed, don't you think? Oh, that's right; you've never been in his bed, have you? Poor you." Click_.

"Stop it! Just stop it!" she berated herself.

OK, so she harbored some less than charitable attitudes where Gage's new friend was concerned. Once she got over her unrequited feelings for him, the jealousy issue should resolve itself, right? Of course, just because she had _feelings_ for him didn't mean she had to indulge them. In fact, keeping Gage as her partner was the very reason she shouldn't—no, make that _couldn't --_ indulge them at all.

"Besides, you're probably jumping to all kinds of crazy conclusions," her rational self argued aloud. "I'm sure it wasn't like that at all."

To which her wounded self replied, "Of course not. How silly of me. He would have let her use the shower first." Aaaargh! Now she was talking to herself!

She checked her watch again. Thirty-five minutes late. If she didn't get on the road in the next ten minutes, she would be late for work. She was going to have to suck it up and call him. With a heavy sigh, she pulled her cell phone from her back pocket, already rehearsing what she would say.

_Hey, Gage. Syd. Did you forget something?_ _Remember you gave me a ride home from the hospital…_

The hospital! Was that why he was late? Had something happened to Julie?

She quickly hit the speed dial to call Gage's cell phone. She listened as his voice mail picked up immediately. Either his phone was turned off or the battery was dead.

She was about to dial Trivette's number when a loud knock sounded at her front door.

Yanking the door open, she had to choke back the "It's about time!" rebuke she nearly hurled at the poor, bedraggled creature on her doorstep. The last thing the man needed was a tongue lashing. The first was a toss up between a shower and a twenty-four hour nap.

"That bad, huh?" Gage asked, cringing at the horrified look on her face.

"Oh, Gage, you were at the hospital all night again, weren't you? What happened? Is Julie alright?" Inwardly, she cursed herself for her earlier jealous musings. She should have known his sister was his first priority.

Sydney pulled Gage into the living room and closed the door. He moved like he was knee deep in wet cement. She indicated the couch, but he shook his head.

"No, if I sit down, I'll lay down, and if I lay down, I'm afraid I won't get back up until sometime next week. Julie is out of the woods, but she is still asleep. No more coma, just asleep." He actually swayed as he spoke.

She didn't waste time arguing with him. She laid her hands on his shoulders, wrapped her left foot behind his right ankle and tripped him backwards onto the couch.

"That was so not fair." Gage tried to muster up some indignation, but he didn't have the energy. His head dropped onto the back of the couch.

Sydney could see the effort it took for him to lift it up again.

"I still have to get you to work," he offered valiantly.

"I can get myself to work. You can either be dropped off at your place or you can crash right here. Either way, you are getting some sleep before I let you set foot in that hospital again."

He started to protest, but the look in her eyes stopped him. He'd seen that same look make two suspects wet their pants right in front of them in the interrogation room. He wasn't scared, but he knew enough not to argue.

"C'mon. I'll take you to your place. If you stay awake long enough, you can tell me what happened on the way there."

It took what little strength he had left to push himself off the couch, stand up and walk out the door to the Jeep parked at the curb in front of the house. He fell more than sat in the passenger seat. Sydney helped him with his seat belt, leaning across him so that their faces were mere inches apart. He reached up and moved her long, straight hair away from the side of her face. His fingers lightly traced the edge of her ear as he tucked her hair behind it.

She froze, which was odd, because her entire body felt like it was on fire.

"So soft," he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek. "I dreamt about your hai--, uh, hair like this, last night."

"Oh?" she prodded, straightening up but still standing next to him.

Running on empty like he was, he still realized he'd let slip more than he should have about the highly erotic dreams he'd had while he was passed out on that wretched hospital cot.

Trouble was, he hadn't gotten any actual rest. How could he with images of Sydney in various states of undress parading through his subconscious? Or with lumps the size of softballs gouging him in the ribs? His body needed sleep desperately, but his mind waylaid him every time he closed his eyes. Still, he wasn't about to tell her that.

"Yeah, after Callie left, Julie's doctor scared up a cot and put it in Julie's room for me. I crashed pretty hard, but the thing was so lum—Syd? What the --?"

Nothing registered past 'after Callie left'. Blood roared in her ears, blocking out the rest of what he was saying. Tears of anger and betrayal welled up in her eyes. She stalked over to the driver's side, jerked the door open, climbed in and slammed the door shut.

_Again! He chose her again!_

Something had happened to Julie and instead of reaching out to Sydney, his partner, for comfort and support, Gage had turned to Callie, a gorgeous woman he barely knew, but obviously wanted to get to know a lot better.

Gage saw the hurt in her eyes, watched her stomp around the Jeep. He was clueless as to how he had managed to upset her so badly.

After she started the engine, he reached out to stay her hand on the gearshift.

"Don't," she warned. He pulled his hand away as if from a flame.

"Syd, what happened? What did I say?" His voice was filled with genuine concern.

"Nothing. I just realized that dropping you off at home is going to make me really late for work and since I took the afternoon off yesterday…" she babbled, letting her thought dangle.

"Syd, I don't want you to be late. I can take a cab home," he offered, reaching to unfasten his seatbelt.

"No, it's OK. I'll call Walker on the way in from your place. When I tell him you look like something the cat dragged in, he'll understand." She cracked a grin. Somehow, it managed to disguise her crumbling heart.

"Thanks. I think," he said, shooting her a puzzled look. The whole PMS excuse was sounding more plausible all the time. The woman's moods lately were like a kaleidoscope, constantly shifting and full of sharp edges. He'd better tread lightly around her for a while or he was liable to get sliced wide open.

-----

"Mmmm! As pick-me-ups go, you're way better than coffee, especially when you taste like a vanilla latte with…cinnamon?" Callie guessed.

"Try again." Trent pressed his lips to hers again, offering her another chance to discern the contents of his Starbucks cup.

"Caramel, definitely, caramel." Callie was positive this time.

"Bingo," he replied, smiling.

"But I thought you didn't like caramel."

"It's not my favorite, but I got it for you, since I knew I'd be sharing this morning," Trent admitted as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his long, lean frame.

"Share away, cowboy," she murmured as she kissed him again, reaching up to run her fingers through his wavy dark hair.

Callie's nickname for her partner was one of the few ways she could show affection for him publicly. Everyone in Company 56 knew his family lived a sort of double life, as both ranchers and firefighters. Nobody in Company 56 knew that Callie and Trent had been lovers for the past six months. Whenever Callie called him 'cowboy' it was her way of letting him know how special he was to her without giving away their secret relationship to their coworkers.

Not that they were in public at the moment. As often as possible, their shift began with pre-dawn coffee and kisses – and whatever else they could manage – in his pickup truck. She usually met him around five-thirty at a secluded park tucked away in the interior of a housing development about a mile from Callie's house.

Most mornings, she walked to the spot, which was really more of a greenbelt than a park. A thick row of old evergreen trees shaded a narrow creek that flowed over a rocky path and spilled into a small drainage pond. The trees provided cover for an abandoned access road that the construction crews had used to get from one side of the development to the other before the streets were paved. Parked on the dirt road, Trent's truck couldn't be seen from the main street.

Today, he had called an hour earlier than usual to say he was on his way, so she had driven over instead of walking. He said he had dreamt about her all night and couldn't wait any longer to see her. His call woke her from the brief nap she'd gotten – on her couch, still in her uniform -- after she left Gage at the hospital.

"You can finish the latte if you want; you look like you could use it more than me," Trent said, handing her his cup. "No offense, love, but you look a little rough around the edges. You don't think that infection is back, do you?"

"No, I finished the antibiotic prescription a couple of weeks ago and I feel fine. I did lose a couple hours of sleep, though. I got a distress call last night from Ranger Gage."

"The one whose sister was kidnapped and pumped full of heroin?"

"Yep. His sister's heart rate took a sudden nosedive and he panicked when he couldn't get the whole story from the doctors. I went to the hospital to try to help, but by the time I got there, everything was under control. Dr. Blair explained what happened and told him that they had brought her out of the coma. Now she just has to be ready to wake up on her own."

Callie considered telling Trent about the wild coincidence she and Gage had discovered, but then decided to keep that to herself. Although she and Trent were committed to one another, they still occasionally dated other people to maintain the illusion that they were 'just partners' at work. Gage would make a perfect 'date', but if Trent knew about her childhood connection to him, it might make him uncomfortable. A few months ago, she had gone on three dates in a row with a male friend from college and Trent had turned positively green. After that, they had agreed to a two-date limit for their 'covers'.

"Won't that kind of give the impression that we're a couple of losers in the relationship department?" Callie had asked him at the time.

"Which impression would you rather give, that you're playing the field or that you can't get a date at all?" he countered.

"Point taken," she acquiesced.

"Besides, the important thing is that you and I know the truth, right? The truth is I love you, Callie, with all my heart. I don't want to be with anyone else and I don't want you to date other men either, but we can't risk anyone at the station finding out about us."

She had known that going in to this relationship. Because firefighters and paramedics usually lived in the fire station while they were on duty, intimate relationships between male and female personnel were forbidden. Even those who didn't sleep at the station every night, like Callie and Trent, were bound by the rule.

The 'anti-fraternization' policy, as Captain O'Malley called it, originated three decades ago when women were first accepted into the department. Initially, the story went, the rule was a concession to the wives of the men already on the job; an unwritten, unspoken law: Thou shalt keep thy hands to thyself. Period.

In reality, the rule was designed to protect the camaraderie – the brotherhood – that existed among firefighters. Without that bond, they couldn't be expected to risk life and limb for one another on a daily basis. Broken relationships or jealousy between station members could not be tolerated, so it was best to simply avoid intimate entanglements altogether.

For Callie and Trent, it was already too late to do what was best. Now, the best they could do was avoid getting caught.

So, without revealing the whole truth, Callie broached the subject of Gage as a prospective date.

"I think Ranger Gage might want to ask me out. Would you have a problem with that?"

"What makes you think that?" Trent hadn't missed the way Gage's eyes lit up when he saw Callie at the hospital the other day. He couldn't help but notice how comfortable Callie and the muscular Ranger had looked with one another. He knew that being openly affectionate was just part of her personality, but it still made his jaw clench when she'd kissed the guy on the cheek.

"What makes me think what; that he wants to ask me out, or that you would have a problem with it?"

"Both, I guess. You don't usually ask me to pre-approve your dates. Has he said he wants to go out with you? Has he made advances beyond what I saw the other day?" he inquired, his deep blue eyes darkening with emotion.

"Calm down, babe. He said he owed me breakfast for helping him out at the hospital last night, but he was too beat to do anything but crash on the cot they set up in his sister's room. I said he could have a rain check and maybe we could get together for lunch today depending on how the shift goes. End of story," she explained, looking up at him from over the rim of her nearly empty coffee cup.

Well, most of the story anyway.

The almost too innocent look in her eyes made him hesitate before he answered, made him wonder if what he was about to say might be a mistake.

"No, I don't have a problem with that," he replied. But he did.


	7. Chapter 7

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 7

Well-rested, freshly-showered and clean-shaven, Gage felt better than he had in days as he pushed open the door to Julie's hospital room. Once inside, his mood improved still more.

"Julie!" he beamed.

She was sitting up in a reclining chair near the bed, wide awake and smiling at him. He crossed the room in four strides and wrapped his arms around her.

"Hey, little brother, smells like you've got a date," his sister teased.

"Oh, Jules, I'm so glad you're OK," he gushed once he'd swallowed the lump in his throat. "And no, I don't have a date, unless you count coming to here to have dinner with you."

A twinge of guilt tugged at him as he recalled the disappointment in Callie's voice when he had to cancel their lunch date. After Sydney dropped him off at his apartment, he had forced himself to stay awake long enough to call her and beg off in favor of getting some much needed sleep. To make it up to her, he offered to take her to dinner tomorrow night, which seemed to make her feel better. He'd fallen into a deep, peaceful – and, thankfully, dreamless - sleep about a minute after climbing into his bed. Eight hours later, he awoke refreshed and anxious to see how Julie was doing.

"Had a hankering for mystery meat and frozen peas, did you?" Julie shot back.

"What I had a hankering for, sis, was to see your gorgeous blue eyes finally looking back at me. Please do me a favor and don't ever scare me like this again. OK, sweetie?"

"Oh, sure, the next time I set out to get myself kidnapped and drugged, I'll let someone else rescue me so _you _won't get scared."

Gage didn't let her sarcastic tone bother him. He knew it was because she wasn't comfortable with people making any amount of fuss over her. She had taken on the roles of caretaker and protector as soon as their parents were buried. She had no idea how to be rescued; she was always the one doing the rescuing. And if he lived to be a hundred, he'd never be able to repay her.

Julie started to rise out of the chair, faltered and grimaced in pain. Instantly, Gage was at her side, his left arm around her waist, steadying her until she was on her feet. It was then that he noticed that she no longer had an IV tube attached to her.

"What hurts, honey? Do you want me to call the nurse?"

"No…I don't…need…the nurse," Julie gasped. Her right hand held Gage's right wrist in a death grip. "I'm supposed to walk…on my own…as much as possible. Broken ribs…hurt." Gage realized his hold on her might be hurting her more than helping her, so he moved half a step away and let her stand on her own. She took her time letting go of his wrist, which throbbed once the pressure was relieved.

She lurched to the bed and gingerly lowered herself to the mattress. Gage felt his chest tightening as he watched her struggle. He was almost lightheaded before it dawned on him that he was holding his breath, as if his taking in oxygen would somehow impede her journey. He gasped in a big gulp of air as she sat down and lifted her feet off the floor.

He couldn't stand it any longer. He hurried to grab her legs and swing them up for her.

"I think that was almost…harder on you than it was…on me," Julie observed as she settled back against the pillows.

"What gives you that idea?"

"Geez, Francis, you were turning blue. It was four steps for goodness sake. I've made the trip twice before. I get a little faster each time."

"Good. Maybe next time you can make it before I turn blue." He smiled his most indulgent smile, which earned him a thump on the back of his head.

"Ow." He rubbed the spot she smacked.

"Don't be a smart ass and help me get the covers pulled up," she ordered.

Gage stood, hands on his hips, eyebrows raised, silently asking, _"And?"_

She sighed impatiently. "Please. Please help me get the covers pulled up."

"That's better," he cajoled, smiling, as he tucked the sheet and blanket up around her middle.

Sitting in the straight chair next to her bed, Gage made an observation.

"Seriously, Jules, I noticed you don't have an IV anymore. Aren't they giving you anything for the pain?"

"I want to try to manage with as little medication as possible. Remember how I always hated taking medicine as a kid? I still do."

"Somehow I doubt your doctor cares whether you like it or not and neither do I. You don't have to hurt this much, Jules. You're just being stubborn."

"No, I'm not. Ronson and Slater kept me in a drugged out haze for three days. You can't imagine how that felt, always being on the edge of consciousness, constantly feeling like I was spinning or falling off a cliff. It makes me nauseous just thinking about it. But the worst thing was that by the end of the third day…" Her voice cracked and there were tears in her eyes.

"Oh, sweetie, you don't have to say anything. It's OK," Gage offered, reaching over to smooth a strand of hair off her forehead.

"No, I want to tell you this. At the end, the day you found me, I was actually looking forward to the shot. I was starting to hurt and I knew the shot would stop the pain." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Gage sat next to her on the bed and held her for a long time. While she cried, he stroked her hair and rocked her gently until she fell silent and he felt her relax against his chest. He looked down expecting her to be asleep, but she wasn't.

"I will never let myself become dependent on any substance ever again, Francis. I would rather have the pain," she avowed.

"Alright. We'll deal with it one step at a time, but you have to understand something. You didn't 'let yourself' do anything. You were beaten up and handcuffed to a horse stall, for crying out loud. Heroin has a very specific effect on a human body. Any relief, or craving, or whatever, you felt was a result of something that was forced on you. That was the point. You start to need the shot; Ronson withholds it until you tell him what he wants to know. Then, once you've told him, he loads the syringe with an overdose and his troubles are over. Sadly for him, your little brother rode to the rescue before he could pull it off." Gage puffed up his chest like a rooster at sunrise.

Julie laughed softly.

"That's my girl," he said tenderly.

"So what happens now? With the case against Ronson and Slater, I mean?" She sat back and Gage moved to the chair again.

"Well, Sydney and I turned all your files over to Alex Cahill, the assistant district attorney. When I spoke to Walker on the way over here, he said Alex would probably be here later to ask you some questions. Walker said she believes your testimony and the dirt you dug up will make a solid case for the state. Ronson's days of skating past the law are over."

As if summoned by his voice, Walker and Alex walked through the door Gage had left open in his rush to hug his sister.

"You can say that again," Alex remarked, smiling as Gage stood to greet her. She leaned in and hugged him.

"Speak of the devil," Gage said, shaking Walker's hand.

"And he walks right in the door," Walker finished.

Both men laughed. Gage offered Alex his chair.

"Thank you, sir," the pretty, blond ADA demurred as she sat down, her briefcase on her lap.

Gage introduced Julie to both Walker and Alex with handshakes all around.

"Julie, it's so good to see that you're feeling better. Do you feel up to answering some questions about the files Gage gave me?"

"Sure. I'll do whatever it takes to put Ronson and his henchman away for good. Francis said you think you have a good case," Julie replied.

"We do, thanks to you," Alex acknowledged.

Gage saw the determined sparkle that always lit his sister's eyes whenever she was in 'investigative reporter' mode. She never quit until she had the whole truth. He couldn't have been more proud of her.

-----

Sydney was just putting on her jacket to leave the Company B office when the phone on her desk rang. She hesitated, looked to see if anyone on the evening shift was available to take the call, but nobody volunteered. By the third ring, she had resigned herself to staying late.

"Texas Rangers Company B, Ranger Cooke speaking," she answered.

"Ranger Cooke, this is Mitch Thornton, administrator at the Grayson County Jail. We've had an incident here that you need to be aware of."

"What happened?" Sydney asked, her pulse quickening at the mention of the jail where Nick Slater was being held.

"One of your suspects, a guy named Nick Slater, is dead. We found him unconscious in his bunk about an hour ago. Looks like he might have been poisoned," Thornton explained.

Sydney sat at her desk, grabbed a pen and started jotting notes on a legal pad.

"Mr. Thornton, I'll need you to preserve the crime scene until I can get a forensic team up there. Where is Slater's body now?"

"We've already called the state police. Their team got here a few minutes ago. The body is in our infirmary. He was still alive, but just barely, when we found him. Our medical people weren't able to revive him." Thornton didn't sound too terribly broken up about it.

"We appreciate the head's up, Mr. Thornton. We'll coordinate with the state police on this. Can you tell me who their lead investigator is?"

"A fellow named Montoya. Miguel Montoya, out of the Whitesboro station. Seems like he knows his sh--, uh, business," Thornton stammered.

"I'm sure he does," Sydney replied, suppressing a chuckle at Thornton's self-editing. She knew that if he'd been speaking to a man, he'd have said what he was really thinking. Apparently, he'd been raised not to swear in front of a lady. "Tell Montoya I'll let my superiors know about this and I'll contact the D.A.'s office as well."

"I sure will. Good-bye, Ranger Cooke."

"Good-bye." Sydney hung up and immediately dialed Walker's cell phone number.

-----

"Slater's dead?" Walker repeated Sydney's announcement aloud.

"Dead?" Alex echoed. She had just snapped her brief case shut after going over Julie's files with her when Walker got Sydney's call.

Gage and Julie's expressions indicated that they were as stunned as Walker and Alex at the news of Slater's untimely demise.

"OK, Sydney. I'll tell her. Are you done for the day or do you want to follow up with Montoya tonight?" Walker asked. He waited a beat or two, listening. "Sounds good. We'll see you tomorrow afternoon then. Good night." He snapped the phone shut and slid it into the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

"Well, one of the nails in Ronson's coffin just got yanked back out," Alex said.

Walker's eyebrows knitted at her cryptic comment.

"Slater had agreed to testify against Ronson if we took the death penalty off the table. My boss wanted me to sign the deal with his attorney in the morning," she explained.

"How much does this hurt the state's case?" Julie questioned Alex.

"Don't worry, Julie. Your testimony and your files will be more than enough to put Ronson on death row," Alex reassured her.

Julie let out a huge yawn.

"Oh, goodness! Excuse me," she said sheepishly.

"Looks like you could use some more sleep, so we'll be going now," Walker said. He lightly laid his hand on Alex's back and directed her toward the door.

"Hey, sweetie, I need to speak to Walker for a minute, but I'll be right back," Gage said, giving Julie a peck on the cheek.

"OK, I'm going to close my eyes for a while. Wake me when dinner gets here." Julie carefully rolled onto her side, snuggled into the pillows and quickly dozed off.

"Alex, is Julie your only witness against Ronson?" Gage asked as he caught up with the pair in the hallway.

"Well, yes, at the moment. I have meetings tomorrow with the Pottsboro mayor and the judge from the Fifth District. Ronson was blackmailing both of them, but so far neither of them has agreed to testify. Why?"

"Walker, did Sydney say how Slater died? Was he murdered?" Gage inquired.

"She said the administrator at the jail told her it looked like he'd been poisoned. She'll be meeting with the state police investigator on the case first thing tomorrow morning in Whitesboro. They should have preliminary autopsy results by then," Walker replied.

"That's what I was afraid of. Julie said Ronson had a lot of connections, 'friends in high places', as she put it. If he somehow had Slater killed for agreeing to testify against him, then I think Julie could be in danger, too."

"There's nothing to suggest Ronson had any connection with this, Gage. He's in the Dallas County Jail; Slater was way up in Grayson County. Slater could easily have made enemies in the jail even in the few days he was there. He wasn't exactly a choir boy," Walker countered.

"No, he wasn't, but he and Ronson grew up together. I heard them talking once about being best friends since the third grade. Let's just say for argument's sake that Ronson did have his lifelong best friend killed for turning on him. Why would he hesitate to do the same to Julie?"

"Gage, I understand your concern, but until we have more information –"

"OK, how about this? When Julie is released, we move her into a safe house, just until we know for sure if Ronson was involved. Sydney and I could stay with her." Gage looked at Walker expectantly.

"Let me look at the caseload back at the office tomorrow. If I can spare both of you, then we'll put her in the safe house."

"And if it turns out Ronson was behind this?"

"Then I'll make sure he spends all his jail time in solitary with no access to phones or computers," Alex chimed in. "If he can't give the order, then she should be safe."

Gage shook hands with both of them. "Thanks, Boss, Alex. Now comes the hard part."  
"What's that?" Walker asked.

"Telling my very private, highly unsociable sister that she's getting a couple of roommates – and I'm one of them," he answered, his voice filled with dread.


	8. Chapter 8

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 8

"What is all the shouting in here? You two are aware that this is a hospital, aren't you? Sick people trying to _rest_ and _recuperate._ Sound familiar?" Liz stared the two blond siblings down like they were a pair of bickering children.

"She won't listen to reason, Liz. She's just being stubborn and mule-headed, as usual!" Gage bellowed.

"Keep your voice down!" the veteran nurse hissed, her green eyes tinged with golden fire. "What is the matter with both of you?"

Gage stalked out into the hallway and tried to pull his nerves back into his neck. He took a few deep breaths and felt the flush in his cheeks recede a bit. Didn't Julie know he was just trying to protect her? Couldn't she see how much he needed to be the one to keep her safe?

Liz followed Gage out into the hallway after checking on Julie.

"I'm sorry for shouting, Liz. I almost never lose my temper, except with her," he said jabbing his index finger at the door Liz had pulled shut. "I'll apologize to the other patients and the staff if you want me to."

"That won't be necessary. Just keep it down to a dull roar, OK? What's all the fuss about anyway? I thought you'd both be happy that Julie's being released tomorrow," Liz replied.

"I can't really go into a lot of detail, but the gist of it is that I want Julie to stay in a safe house with me and my partner until the man who kidnapped her is rendered harmless. He's in jail now, but he may still be able to get to Jul—Wait a minute, did you say tomorrow?" Gage inquired when the nurse's words finally sunk in.

Tomorrow was Friday. Tomorrow was his dinner date with Callie. He was hoping Julie wouldn't be released until at least Saturday. He was either going to have to ask Trivette to cover for him at the safe house or risk disappointing Callie again. Damn. He didn't like either choice. With Julie on the warpath, getting Trivette to go to the safe house was going to cost him big time. On the other hand, if he canceled on Callie two days in a row, she might not agree to go out with him again. That prospect didn't sit well with him at all.

Julie's voice boomed from the other side of the door. "I'm going home, Francis. Do you hear me? Home! Alone!"

Gage rammed his fingers through his hair and held on like he was going to tear clumps of it out with his bare hands.

"What am I going to do with her?" he ground out in frustration.

"If she was still taking any medication for her pain, I'd say we could slip her a sedative just before discharging her. Then you could take her pretty much anywhere and she'd never know," Liz offered conspiratorially.

Gage looked at her in disbelief. It had actually been a rhetorical question. He hadn't expected her to champion his cause, let alone suggest something he was pretty sure was highly unethical.

Liz gauged his reaction perfectly. "Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist. It wouldn't have hurt her a bit. Anyway, it's a moot point, because she's still refusing medication of any kind. You're just going to have to convince her that protective custody is in her best interest. You want me to get her in a headlock for you?" Her eyes were twinkling.

"Sometimes you scare me. Have you always been a nurse, or is there a Black Ops tattoo somewhere under those scrubs?" he asked, eyeing her closely.

Darting glances up and down the hall, the diminutive woman crooked a finger at him, signaling him to lean close so she could whisper in his ear.

"I'll never tell. If I did, I'd have to kill you." The pointed stare she gave him before she turned and walked away nearly had him convinced she was serious, but the familiar cackle told him she'd pulled his leg yet again. Over her shoulder she called, "You're too easy, Ranger. Too easy!"

Everybody was a comedian.

-----

The next morning, Sydney had just shoveled the last bite of her Captain Crunch cereal into her mouth when her cell phone rang. While she chewed, she checked the caller ID. It said _Gage_.

"Hey, farfer," she mumbled, still sucking high fructose corn syrup out of her teeth. Now she remembered why she never ate this stuff anymore.

In a blue funk after her last encounter with her partner, she'd gone to the grocery store and loaded up on sugary comfort foods. The Cherry Garcia ice cream bit the dust last night. A six-pack of Hershey chocolate bars was standing by in the pantry to help get her through the coming weekend. Apparently, nostalgia had gotten the better of her in the cereal aisle and she'd grabbed her favorite childhood treat, forgetting that the puffy golden squares turned to a glue-like consistency when chewed.

"Hey, Syd. What's for breakfast?" Gage teased.

She could tell he was smiling.

"Captain Crunch."

"Really? I love that stuff! You got any left?" he asked anxiously.

"Sure. Are you on your way here?"

"Actually, I'm on the porch. I knew you were upset with me yesterday, so I wanted to make sure you were still talking to me before I knocked."

"Come on in. I'll pour your cereal," she said, shaking her head and smiling as she snapped her phone shut and pocketed it.

Gage burst through the door and skidded to a stop in the kitchen doorway. Sydney handed him the milk jug, watched him douse his cereal and then returned the jug to the refrigerator. He helped himself to a spoon from the drawer next to the sink and dug in.

"Mmmm! Thifs iffs great!" he beamed.

The look of pure delight on his face made Sydney's heart turn over. How could she stay mad at a guy who loved Captain Crunch that much?

"You look a lot better than the last time I saw you. You've obviously gotten some sleep, so Julie must be doing well," she stated.

"Well enough to be driving me nuts," he grumbled between spoonfuls.

"Barking at the nurses, like you said she would?"

"No, barking at me for wanting her to go into protective custody until we know if Ronson had Slater murdered or not." He slurped the last of the cereal off the spoon and handed her the empty bowl. "Thanks, Syd. Best breakfast I've had in a long time."

"You're welcome. So you want her to go to a safe house and she doesn't want to go?" Sydney clarified as she rinsed the bowl and set it the sink.

He nodded. "She's always been kind of a loner. When we were kids at the group home, she always tried to find ways to play by herself. She hated sharing a room with other girls. She couldn't wait to turn eighteen and get her own apartment. Even with all the moving around she's done as a freelance writer, she still has always had her own place, a place she doesn't have to share with anyone – including me."

Sydney thought she detected a hint of sadness at being excluded on some level from Julie's world. Then she realized it went deeper than that.

"She didn't take you with her, when she moved out. She left you at the group home." Sydney's fingers brushed the back of his hand. His eyes never left the floor, but he curled his fingers around hers. Her pulse went into overdrive.

Finally, he looked up, his eyes full of old hurts. She wanted more than anything to take his face in her hands and kiss the pain away. Instead, she forced herself to just hold his hand and wait.

His gaze drifted toward the kitchen window. Outside, a school bus stopped at the corner and he watched several elementary school children scramble aboard. When the door creaked shut and the bus rumbled away, he continued.

"She said I was big enough to take care of myself, which was true, I suppose, since I was taller than Jack Henson by then. He hadn't laid a hand on me since I joined the football team and started lifting weights when I was a sophomore. But I still thought we should have stayed together, just like we always had."

She and Julie had yet to be introduced, but Sydney couldn't picture the girl that Gage spoke of with such love and admiration simply abandoning him just so she could have the bathroom all to herself.

"I'm sure she wasn't trying to be mean. She'd hung in there with you for seven years, and you said yourself that she used to get the worst of it from your foster parents. Maybe she needed time to regroup, to focus just on herself for a while. If you ask her, I bet she'll tell you it was hard for her to let go and let you take care of yourself," Sydney observed.

"That's pretty much what she told me back then. I didn't want to begrudge her that time, especially after all she'd done for me, but I still really missed her."

Sydney let go of Gage's hand, reluctantly. She switched off the kitchen light and moved around the living room, gazing at various spots and talking as she went. "That sounds like she didn't just move across town. Did she go to college?"

"She spent the first summer in Oklahoma living in an apartment above the garage at our Aunt Maxine's place. Maxine was a widow and she offered Julie the place for next to no rent in exchange for running errands and helping her around the house. The following fall she went to Oklahoma State to study journalism."

As Gage talked, he followed Sydney around the room. He stopped next to the coffee table.

"Are you looking for something?" he asked pointedly.

"My car keys. I'm going to Whitesboro to meet with the state police sergeant who's investigating Slater's death. I was hoping to beat the morning traffic on I-75, but I think I'll be smack in the middle of it-- if I can ever find my keys."

Gage walked up and stood in front of her, so close she could smell the woodsy scent of the soap he used. He smiled down at her. He reached out and touched the sleeve of her suede jacket, slid his hand down her arm and took her hand in his. Her mouth went dry. Her stomach dropped to her knees. He leaned in ever so slightly. She tilted her head up and was about to close her eyes in anticipation of a dream come true, when she felt him direct her hand into her jacket pocket, where she found…

"My keys!" she exclaimed a little too brightly, jerking her hand out of his and pulling the keys out to stare at them incredulously. She looked at him, looked at the keys, looked at him again. "How did you--?"

"It's a reflex. I've watched you do it a million times. You shut off the Jeep, pull the keys out and put them in your right hand jacket pocket, almost as if it's one fluid motion. Then, you promptly forget you put them there, probably because you don't even really think about it. You just do it."

"You're very observant. Ever think about going into law enforcement?" she teased.

"Only if you'll be my partner," he replied, his eyes locked with hers.

_Forever and ever,_ her heart answered, but her lips said, "Might as well. I'd hate to have to break in a new one."

"Thanks a lot! Just for that I'm not going to offer to go with you to Whitesboro. Enjoy the drive." He spun on his heel and headed for the front door. He knew her worst pet peeve was driving in rush hour traffic.

"Wait!"

He stopped, turned around, grinning.

"You wanted to go with me? I thought you'd be spending the day with Julie." _Or what's-her-name._

"Nope. She's still irritated about the safe house and I don't feel like arguing with her about it anymore. Besides, I'd like to hear what Sergeant Montoya has to say about Slater. I talked to Walker last night and he's OK with us going up there together."

"Great, you drive," she said and tossed him her keys.

-----

What should have been about a 90-minute drive took well over two hours. Both Rangers were restless and cranky after sitting in stop-and-go traffic nearly all the way to Whitesboro. As if that weren't bad enough, Gage was hungry again.

"I'm starving. Want to grab a bite before we meet with Montoya?" he asked hopefully.

"No, we're an hour late as it is. That bottomless pit you call a stomach is just going to have to wait," she shot back.

"This is a cop station, right? There's gotta be a donut in here somewhere," Gage reasoned. He parked along the street in front of the single-story red brick building that housed the Whitesboro offices of the Texas Department of Public Safety, the umbrella organization for all state law enforcement, including the state police.

"If anyone can sniff it out, you can," she grumbled.

He stuck his tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes at him.

They exited the car and entered the building, stopping at the civilian aide's desk near the front door to ask for Sergeant Montoya.

"Oh, yes, Ranger Cooke, he's expecting you. Through the door behind me and then first door on the left," the young woman at the desk directed.

As they passed the desk, Gage noticed a box of donuts sitting on a small table next to an industrial sized coffee urn and a stack of Styrofoam cups.

"Pardon me, ma'am?" Gage flashed the attractive redhead his most adorable smile.

"Yes, Ranger, can I help you?" she offered.

"May I?" he requested, pointing to the baked goods.

"Certainly. Help yourself," she cooed. Then, as though she'd just thought of something clever, she dropped her eyes behind her well-curled lashes and added, "To whatever you like."

"Thanks." Gage grabbed two crullers, used them to deliver a half-hearted mock salute to his benefactor and hurried to catch up with Sydney just as she arrived at Montoya's closed door.

"You're positively shameless," she snapped under her breath. She shot a disapproving look at him as he stuffed the last bite of the first donut into his mouth.

"What? I asked first," he noted innocently, then demolished half the second donut in one enormous bite. He polished off the rest just as Sydney knocked.

_I wasn't talking about the donuts, you idiot._ She kept her thought to herself, but she couldn't resist rolling her eyes at him again.


	9. Chapter 9

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 9

All thoughts of Gage and his flirtations flew straight out of Sydney's head the moment Sergeant Miguel Montoya opened the door.

He was the tallest law enforcement officer Sydney had ever seen. At six feet six inches, he towered over her. He even made Gage look small by comparison. As she leaned back to look up at him, she was reminded of when she was a little girl looking up at her tall, lanky _abuelo_ and asking him, "How's the weather up there?" over and over again. Grandfather never failed to laugh.

Of course, Sydney noted, Montoya didn't look like anyone's grandfather. She guessed he was in his mid-thirties. He had jet-black hair, eyes as dark as obsidian, and perfect white teeth that fairly glowed when his deeply tanned face broke into an easy smile. His high cheekbones, straight nose and strong chin hinted at a Native American ancestor, perhaps back a generation or two.

"Ranger Cooke?" He looked confused at first, his eyes darting back and forth between the two Rangers.

"Yes. I'm sorry we're late. Traffic was—" Sydney started.

"Think nothing of it," Montoya interrupted. His exotic features settled into a look of pure male appreciation. He leaned against the door, still holding the knob, still staring down at her.

Sydney squirmed the tiniest bit under his intense gaze. He must have noticed her discomfort, because he immediately turned his focus on Gage.

"And you are?" he asked, offering a hand to Gage.

"Ranger Gage, Sydney's partner. I hope my coming along isn't a problem?" he posed.

Sydney didn't miss the obliging tone of Gage's comment. Obviously, Gage had noticed Montoya's interest and didn't want to be a 'third wheel'. The idea hit her like a lightning strike. She'd never get a better chance to gauge her partner's feelings toward her. She wasn't any good at emotional games, but if she could pull this off, the prize would definitely be worth the risk.

"No problem at all. It's just that my office is too small for the three of us," the sergeant said.

Gage doubted Montoya could squeeze a paper clip into that glorified phone booth once he himself was in it. Even one additional human would definitely be asking too much of the space, let alone two. He wondered if Montoya would have made the sacrifice if Sydney had come alone. The image he conjured of the two of them alone, pressed together in the tiny office, unavoidably touching, made him wish he hadn't thought about it at all.

"Let me just grab my file and we can use the conference room," Montoya was saying. He picked up a file folder from his desk, closed his door and directed Sydney and Gage down the hallway to a windowless room containing a large black table surrounded by ten black leather chairs.

After they sat down, Montoya turned to Sydney with a look of contrition.

"Please forgive me for staring just now. It was horribly unprofessional of me. It's just that Thornton didn't tell me that you were a woman. When he said 'Ranger Sydney Cooke', I assumed he was speaking of a man. The mental picture I had, well, let's just say, you are a very pleasant surprise."

His genuine humility seemed completely at odds with his imposing physical stature. Her previous thoughts not withstanding, Sydney had to admit the handsome investigator intrigued her.

"It's OK, Sergeant. You're not the first person to make that assumption and I'm sure you won't be the last," Sydney replied, offering him a reassuring smile.

"Please, call me Miguel." The words came from low in his throat, a silky baritone Sydney found almost hypnotic.

"Only if you call me Sydney," she returned. Her tone walked a thin line between courteous and flirtatious.

"I'd be delighted."

For a few beats, no one moved or spoke. Montoya held Sydney's gaze. This time she didn't squirm a bit.

Meanwhile, Gage had to fight like hell to unclench his jaw before he could manage to say, "Just in case anyone cares, my first name is actually Francis, but I prefer Gage."

"Oh, are you still here?" Sydney tore her eyes away from Montoya and gave her partner a chilly glare.

"Don't we have a case to discuss?" Gage snarled back at her.

"Of course, Ranger Gage, you're right," Montoya interceded, the soul of poise and grace as he opened his file and spread it before the three of them on the table. His serene expression gave no hint of the conclusions he was drawing as he observed the two Rangers.

"As you can see," he continued, "the preliminary autopsy results indicate that Mr. Slater died of asphyxiation as a result of a severe allergy to peanuts. Apparently, the chicken served at dinner last night was fried in peanut oil."

"Peanut allergies are extremely common. I'm surprised that the jail would use peanut oil to prepare meals for the general population," Sydney observed.

"According to Thornton, the oil was used by mistake to refill the deep fryers after they were cleaned yesterday. Standard procedure is to use vegetable oil. Fortunately, none of the other prisoners seem to have been affected."

"Any idea how the switch occurred?" Gage inquired.

"Not so far. Thornton is still questioning all the inmates who worked shifts in the kitchen yesterday. So far, no one has admitted being the one who refilled the fryers or used the wrong oil."

"So has the M.E. ruled this an accidental death?" Sydney wondered.

"I think he's leaning that way, but we're not jumping to any conclusions just yet. I take it you think foul play was involved?" Montoya guessed.

"Slater was about to turn state's evidence against his former employer, B.J. Ronson. We can't rule out the possibility that Ronson had him killed," Gage explained.

"By frying his dinner in peanut oil? What if Slater hadn't eaten the chicken? If that was Ronson's Plan A, I wonder what was Plan B? Arsenic in the salad?" Montoya queried sarcastically.

Sydney chuckled.

Gage glowered at them both. He couldn't blame Montoya; he had no idea that Gage had a personal stake in this case. But Sydney knew. Not funny. Not funny at all.

"Beyond that, there's still another missing piece to this puzzle. Assuming Ronson was behind this, and I'm far from convinced he was, how did he manage it from a jail cell more than sixty miles away?" Montoya posed.

"You'd have to check phone records and visitor's logs for both facilities to see if Ronson made contact with anyone at the jail here, or if he had any visitors in common with anyone here since his arrest," Gage suggested.

"We'll also need any records of email traffic or Internet usage from both jails," Sydney put in.

"Obtaining the necessary records shouldn't be a problem. I can have them faxed over right away. Did you want to wait or should I call you when I've had a chance to review them?"

Sydney looked at Gage. "What do you think?" she asked him, but then plowed ahead without giving him time to answer. "I say we stick around. We can help go through the records and if we find evidence against Ronson we can take it straight back to Alex."

As much as Gage wanted to neutralize the threat to Julie as soon as possible, either by clearing Ronson or by having him thrown into solitary confinement, he had no stomach for watching Sydney moon over Montoya all afternoon while they checked those records. He was about to opt for heading back to Dallas when Montoya offered a suggestion.

"Let me see how long it will take to get the records here and then you can decide. I'll need to go back to my office to get the number for Dallas County. You two can wait in here. Be right back," he said. As he walked out the door, he glanced back at Sydney and smiled when he saw that she was watching him leave.

She hadn't intended to stare at his backside as he walked away, but she couldn't help it anymore than she could stop the color from rushing to her cheeks when he caught her looking. Maybe waiting around wasn't such a good idea.

As soon as Montoya was out of earshot, Gage made his pitch.

"Hey, Syd, I say we just take off. I'm not sure what time they will be releasing Julie and she will be furious if I'm not there when she's ready to leave. I'm going to have enough trouble getting her into the safe house without her also being riled up about waiting around for me."

"But if we stay and the records don't show any contact between Ronson and anyone at Grayson County, then it won't be necessary for Julie to go to the safe house. That would probably calm her down quite a bit, no matter how long she has to wait," she responded.

"C'mon, Syd. Humor me here. I'm sure if Montoya finds anything we can use he'll call us."

Sydney didn't have a chance to answer him before Montoya came back in.

"It will take about an hour for both sets of records to get here. We could go get some lunch while we wait. I know a great Mexican restaurant about two blocks from here. My treat," he offered.

"Works for me," Sydney replied.

"We really can't," Gage said at exactly the same instant.

Sydney swiveled her chair to face Gage. "You're turning down a free lunch?" she squawked incredulously.

Gage shot a look at Sydney that would have curdled milk. Apparently, she was going to let him look like the bad guy here. Not on her life. If she wanted to spend the afternoon with Gigantor, then fine. He wasn't about to stand in her way, but he wasn't about to watch her throw herself at him either.

"Well, I have a family commitment in Dallas this afternoon, so I can't stay. But I don't want to rain on your parade, Syd, so if you want to hang around, perhaps you can ask Sergeant Montoya to arrange a ride home for you." The words actually hurt his mouth to say; he felt like he was chewing glass. To his surprise, however, he was able to keep his tone friendly.

"I'll drive you myself," Montoya offered helpfully. Then, as if he didn't want to appear too eager, he added, "If we find anything to implicate Ronson, I can hand carry it to the D.A. The fewer links in the chain of evidence, the less likely Ronson's attorney will be to accuse anyone of tampering with it."

Sydney couldn't believe her ears. Did Gage just serve her up on a platter to another man? He sure as hell did and it was her own fault, she realized. Her little jealousy test had backfired, big time.

_Now who's the idiot? _she silently chastised herself.

Gage stood up and headed for the door, all the while fighting the urge to drag Sydney out of the room, kicking and screaming if necessary. It was better this way. She deserved to be with someone who could care for her without hesitation, someone who didn't have a whole luggage cart full of emotional baggage to carry around.

He stopped at the hallway and turned around.

"Syd, call me and let me know what happens with those records, will you? If I don't see you when you get back tonight, I'll see you tomorrow. Sergeant, it's been a pleasure meeting you. Drive carefully – I'd hate to have to break in a new partner," he chided.

He saw Sydney's eyes widen when she heard her own words coming back at her and knew he'd gotten his point across. They were partners, period. It was all he could give her.

As he turned and strode down the hall alone, a feeling of loss clenched his chest so tight he could hardly breathe. He tried to chase it away by giving the pretty civilian aide one last heart-stopping smile and a wink to boot, but he couldn't shake it.

When he got outside, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was Sydney's Jeep, parked at the curb, right where they'd left it. He'd been so caught up in getting away from her that he'd forgotten whose car they drove. _Damn_.

He'd actually thought he could use the drive back to get his feelings under control. No way that was going to happen. One look at the passenger seat and all he could see was Sydney, sleeping beneath that gorgeous veil of silky black hair, her hand resting on his leg. Suddenly his chest wasn't the only part of him that ached for her.

His cell phone rang. His pulse was beating triple time in hopes that it was Sydney trying to catch him before he left. When he checked the caller ID, his heart sank. It wasn't her.

"Hello?" He hadn't recognized the number.

"Hey, Ranger, how's it going?" said a familiar female voice.

_Callie._

"Honestly, it wasn't going all that great, but as of right now, I'd say things are looking up." And they were.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: To all who have reviewed previous chapters and waited patiently for this one -- Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I hope this chapter, which is unusually long, will have been worth the wait.

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 10

So, how tall are you exactly?" Sydney queried, trying to stall before leaving the building. She didn't want to run into Gage on the way to lunch.

"Exactly? I measure seventy-seven and one quarter inches barefoot. That's three-fourths of an inch under the maximum height restriction for state troopers."

"And they gave you the world's smallest office because…?"

"Just the luck of the draw. These quarters are temporary. When our new building is finished in a few weeks, I'll get a lot more elbow room."

Montoya had returned to his office to retrieve his suit jacket. Sydney waited at the doorway while he lifted the light gray coat off the back of his chair and put it on. He also wore matching slacks and a black shirt with a thin tone-on-tone pinstripe and no tie. His open collar offered Sydney a peek at his powerfully built chest, which matched his impossibly broad shoulders. Not that she noticed. Really.

"Shall we go? I think it's probably safe to leave now. I heard the Jeep drive away a minute ago." He gave her a knowing look.

Sydney tried to appear shocked, or at least confused. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Save it, Sydney. I'm not blind. Or stupid. Greatly disappointed maybe, but not stupid," he shot back, slightly irritated.

It was no use pretending. Miguel wasn't fooled. How had he guessed so much in so little time? If he had seen through her, then how much had Gage figured out?

"Oh, lord, am I really that obvious?" she groaned.

"Apparently not to him, but I've got a pretty good view of the situation, even from way up here," he joked, alluding to the vast difference in their heights.

"All kidding aside," he continued in a more serious tone, "the little game you're playing isn't very wise. Fortunately, I have an abundance of self-confidence, so my ego isn't bruised enough to want to do anything nasty. The next guy you try this with may not be such a paragon of virtue."

Sydney cringed at the thought. Clearly, her initial assessment had been correct; she stank at mind games.

"There won't be a 'next guy'," she admitted glumly.

Miguel crooked his index finger under her chin and tilted her face up to meet his eyes.

"Game or no game, if I thought I stood even the slightest chance of winning your heart, Sydney, I'd kiss you right now and do my damnedest to make you forget him. But I can see I'd be wasting my time. Your heart isn't yours to give away anymore. Your partner has already claimed the prize. It's too bad he can't appreciate it yet," he told her.

"Yet?" she squeaked. She couldn't help feeling a tad disappointed that Miguel was giving up so easily. Part of her would have liked to know what it felt like to kiss this mountain of a man.

"I don't know what made him run away from you today, but whatever it is, it's still stronger than what he feels for you. That won't always be the case. I hope for your sake that one day soon he will realize that true love is more than strong enough to slay his demons."

She looked up at him through narrowed eyes. "You say that like you've been there and done that."

"I'll tell you all about it over lunch."

-----

True to his word, at a quiet table in Manny's Mexican Cocina, Miguel told Sydney the story of how he met his late wife, Belinda, at a time when the last thing either of them wanted was to fall in love.

"I had just been discharged from the army after Desert Storm. I was a mess, but I didn't know it," he started.

Their waitress delivered two steaming plates of fajitas with all the trimmings to the table. The meat and vegetables were sizzling so loud that Miguel had to wait a minute before continuing to speak. As the conversation resumed, they both dug in to their meals.

"So, you were a mess…" Sydney repeated. She moved her fork forward in a circular motion, indicating, _Go on._

"Yes, I was, but I had no idea how affected I had really been by all the horrific stuff I'd seen over there. I lived alone. I had no close family or friends other than my army buddies and an occasional casual girlfriend. No, I take that back. They weren't girlfriends; they were sex partners. I didn't feel anything for any of them. In fact, I didn't feel anything at all. Period.

"While I waited for a spot to open up at the State Police Academy, I had a job installing security systems in office buildings. I'd get up, go to work, go out for a few drinks after work, maybe pick up some woman who wanted to see if all my body parts were proportional, take her home and, most of the time, wake up the next morning alone and hung over. I lived like that for about a year before I met Belinda."

Sydney watched Miguel's features soften when he spoke her name. It was clear that he had loved her dearly.

"Let me guess," Sydney broke in, "She wasn't interested in proportional body parts."

"Oh, yes, she was, just not the same one as all the other women. Belinda wanted my heart to be as big as the rest of me."

"How did you meet her?"

"I installed a new security system in a school for handicapped children in Pottsboro. Belinda was one of the teachers. While I was in her classroom, running wires and installing a keypad on the wall, I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was the prettiest woman I had ever seen."

"What did she look like?" Sydney was fully absorbed in the story now. She wanted all the details.

"You, actually," Miguel said matter-of-factly as he sipped his iced tea.

Sydney nearly choked on a bite of tortilla. "Me?"

"Yes, you could almost be sisters. She had long, straight, dark hair and deep, brown eyes. Your faces are very similar, too, but there is one important difference. She was nearly six feet tall," he revealed, smiling at the memory.

Now his initial reaction to her made more sense. It didn't really have as much to do with Sydney herself as it did with her resemblance to his beloved, deceased wife. The truth stung just a little. She should have known he could never be attracted to her for herself. She didn't even wear makeup.

"Love at first sight?" Sydney guessed, revealing nothing of her wounded ego. She was still trying to picture a much taller version of herself.

"On the contrary, I had only one interest in women at that point in my life. When I asked her if she wanted to go out for a drink after school, she informed me that she didn't drink and even if she did, she wouldn't go out with an unfeeling jerk like me. Naturally, I was offended."

"Because she called you an unfeeling jerk."

"No, because she turned me down. I didn't care about being an unfeeling jerk, but since that was the reason she gave for not going out with me, I asked her how she knew that about me. She said it was because I had spent all that time in her classroom and never once paid any attention to the children. She was right. I hadn't given them a second thought. What kind of heartless bastard spends three hours in a room full of children in wheelchairs, or with missing limbs, or who are bald from chemo treatments, and shows not the slightest interest, not one whit of compassion?"

"Someone who had shut off his feelings so that he could deal with the day to day horrors of war. It's a coping mechanism, Miguel, not a character flaw."

"Sure, I know that _now_, but back when I was trying to get to first base with the girl of my dreams, I was clueless." He chuckled, his black eyes twinkling.

"So how did you get her to go out with you?"

"I promised to take every one of her students – all twelve of them - out for ice cream the next day if she would agree to go to dinner with me afterward."

"How did that go?"

"Fearing a logistical nightmare, I approached the event like a military operation and it went off without a hitch. She told me later it worked so well because I provided the structure and she kept it fun and familiar. And it was fun. It was the first time I had laughed in a long time."

"So, she finds out you're not heartless and then what? She falls head-over-heels in love?"

"Nope, but I sure did. I tried everything to get her to go out with me a second time, but she wouldn't budge. She kept saying there was no future in it, but I didn't care. I just wanted to be with her as much as possible. For the next thirty-five days, I brought her coffee every morning at the school before the kids arrived. She would never let me touch her, but we would talk and gradually I was able to turn my feelings back on, not just for her, but also about what I had been through in the service.

"On day thirty-six, when I got there I found her sitting in her car, crying. I couldn't help myself; I broke the touching rule. I knelt down and hugged her and she cried harder. I kept asking what was wrong, but she wouldn't tell me. She said she couldn't see me anymore. When I asked her why, she said, "Because I love you." I was ecstatic, but very confused," Miguel recalled. His eyes were misty.

Sydney wasn't sure she wanted to hear the rest of the story. She didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that Belinda was trying to protect Miguel from some awful truth about her. But nothing in Miguel's demeanor suggested he was sad or bitter about anything; maybe the ending was happier than she thought.

"What was wrong with her?" Sydney ventured, despite her sudden recollection of her grandfather warning her not to ask questions if she didn't really want the answers.

"She was dying."

"Oh, Miguel, I'm so sorry." Not knowing what else to do, Sydney reached out and touched Miguel's hand. He clasped her fingers in his. It reminded her of how Gage had held her hand when he told her about his sister moving out of their foster home. Had that been just this morning? She'd lost all sense of time listening to Miguel's story.

"She had leukemia. It had been in remission for years, but her doctors had just told her it was back. I was furious."

"With her?" Sydney balked, letting go of his hand. She felt a need to defend this woman she'd never met. "She was trying to pro-"

Miguel held up his hand and smiled. "Whoa, there, little lady. I wasn't angry with her. I was angry at everything else – bad timing, cosmic karma, God, even myself. I had let myself _feel_ again, and for what? Just to lose her to some insidious disease? She saw what was happening, what I was thinking. That was when she told me she wasn't crying for herself; she was crying for me."

Sydney's puzzled look brought another knowing smile from him.

"She said she had accepted her own mortality long ago, but she was afraid that I would shut down again, close myself off from my feelings to avoid the pain of losing her. I said the first thing that came into my head. I asked her to marry me."

"What did she say?"

"At first, she turned me down flat. Vehemently. But then I told her that the only way I was going to be able to keep my heart alive from that moment on was by waking up next to her every day. If she really didn't want me to retreat into the darkness again, she had to agree to be my light. And she did. We were married three weeks later."

As if on cue, the waitress laid the check for lunch on the table and chirped, "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you," Miguel replied. He looked across the table and saw that Sydney had tears in her eyes.

"No reason to be sad, Sydney. We had almost six years together. We spent our honeymoon in the Sloan-Kettering hospital in New York where she underwent some aggressive chemo and an experimental drug therapy that sent the leukemia into remission again. She went back to teaching and I became a state trooper. We were ridiculously happy."

"Until…"

"She died. Two years ago, last December. She was mad because the Cowboys were winning that year and she wanted to see them go all the way. Made me promise to go to every home game and cheer them on for her."

As they stood to leave, Sydney marveled at how easily he seemed to be coping with what must have been a devastating loss. Her eyes glowed with admiration for him.

He noticed her expression on their walk back to his office.

"Oh, now, don't go nominating me for sainthood. To say that I handled her death poorly is the understatement of the decade. The bender I went on after her funeral was nothing short of legendary. My fellow troopers left me alone for a week, during which I drank an ocean of whiskey and never turned on the lights in my house. She was my light and she was gone. I wanted so badly to crawl into the dark and never come out."

"What turned you around? You certainly appear to have made it through all the stages of grief."

"I have, but it wasn't easy and it took a long time. I've only recently gotten to acceptance. My coworkers dragged me out of my house, literally kicking and screaming, and back to work and into therapy. Not one of my finer moments. Her students were a big influence, too. I spent a lot of time with them and we grieved together. I mean it's damned hard to wallow in self-pity around kids who have no legs, or who are in the last stages of bone cancer, and who are joking with each other all the while about how goofy they all look."

As they reached the DPS building, Miguel opened the door for her. They walked past the reception desk and back to his office, where he shed his jacket and checked the fax machine. He removed a thick stack of papers from the machine's output tray.

"Looks like we have our work cut out for us. We could be here for several more hours. Are you sure you want to stay and do all this?" he asked.

"Right now, this is my priority. We have a witness set to testify against Ronson. If he did have Slater killed, then he's got a longer reach than we thought and our witness would be next on his hit list. For her sake, we have to know one way or the other," she explained, adding, "Besides, I want to hear the rest of your story."

"There isn't anything left to tell. Except maybe that I'd do it all again."

"Really? Even knowing how it would end, you'd still let yourself fall in love with her?"

"Absolutely, because if I learned anything from Belinda, it was that we can't hide from pain without also hiding from love. I wouldn't trade loving her and being loved by her for anything, even though the price for it was more pain than I ever thought a human being could endure. But we did endure, and it was love that saw us through. Oh, I know her body succumbed to the disease, but her spirit never did. The truth is, if we had chosen to separate because of her disease, she still would have died, but neither of us would have ever really lived."

"You are a remarkable human being, Sergeant Miguel Montoya," Sydney beamed.

"There you go putting me on a pedestal again. Hell, woman, I'm liable to get a nosebleed from the altitude!" he joked.

Sydney laughed out loud at the mental picture she had of him perched atop the first pedestal that came to mind – the one under the Statue of Liberty. He must have had the same thought, because a second later, he stood on his chair in that famous statue's pose, one hand clutching the pile of fax papers and the other lifting a pencil skyward. He had to hunch his shoulders to keep from hitting his head on the ceiling. Sydney doubled over laughing.

"Give me your tired, your poor…" he intoned before breaking into hysterics himself.

The civilian aide appeared in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

"If y'all are having a party in here, how come I wasn't invited?" she drawled.

Miguel climbed down off the chair. After a couple of deep breaths, he and Sydney managed to reduce their guffaws to a few minor giggles.

"I'm sorry, Jeannine, we didn't mean to disturb anyone. We'll hold it down from now on," Miguel promised.

"Laugh all you want, just include me in the joke next time, OK?" Her expression said she'd like Miguel to include her in a lot more than office humor.

The phone rang at the reception desk. Before Jeannine went to answer it, she gave Sydney a look that fell somewhere between haughty disapproval and open hostility.

"Is she like that with everybody?" Sydney asked after Jeannine returned to her desk.

"I've done everything short of filing a sexual harassment complaint to try to discourage her. What can I say? I guess I'm just irresistible." He flashed that perfect white smile again.

"And modest, too." Sydney smiled back.

"Right. If you're sure you want to stay, we can work in the conference room," Miguel suggested.

"I get the feeling you spend a lot of time in here," Sydney replied as they entered the room and sat at the long, black table.

"Two weeks, they assure me, until the new building will be ready. It can't happen soon enough for me. Which do you want, Dallas County or Grayson?"

"I'll take Dallas and check the outgoing calls first," Sydney answered.

Miguel sifted through the reports, found what she needed and handed it to her. Then he chose a stack for himself and they both began combing the lists for anything that might link Ronson to Slater's killer.

Thirty minutes later, Miguel's cell phone rang.

"Montoya." After a beat or two, he continued, "Mr. Thornton, what have you got for me?" Another pause. "How sure are you he's telling the truth?"

Sydney listened as Miguel asked a few more questions and then wrapped up the conversation with, "Thank you, Mr. Thornton, if we need anything else we'll be in touch."

"So, what did he say?" Sydney asked.

"Slater's death was an accident, a fairly weird accident, but still definitely not intentional," Miguel answered.

"Weird how?" Sydney looked at him expectantly.

"One of the inmates working in the kitchen finally admitted he was the one who used the wrong oil to refill the fryers. Apparently, he can't read. The jugs for the vegetable oil and the peanut oil are stored on the same shelf. He grabbed the wrong ones and no one caught the mistake. Thornton said the man is fairly religious and his conscience got the better of him once word about what killed Slater got around."

"I can see the autopsy report now. 'Cause of death: illiteracy'. Somebody should make a commercial," Sydney said humorlessly.

"Well, I guess that means we can stop beating our heads against this wall, huh?" Miguel announced, holding up his stack of papers.

"Yep. I need to call Gage and let him know it won't be necessary to stash our witness in the safe house after all. He'll be thrilled."

"I imagine the witness will be happy, too."

"You have no idea," Sydney quipped.

Two hours later, Miguel pulled up in front of Sydney's house in Dallas. They had spent the drive discussing everything from the sad state of the Texas educational system to their favorite sports teams.

"Do you want to come in?" Sydney offered.

"I'd better not. My cat gets testy if I'm late with her tuna. She still has claws and my furniture has the scratches to prove it," Miguel replied.

"I spent the whole day with you and you never once mentioned you had a cat. Or did you just invent her to have a reason not to stick around?"

"Why, Sydney! I'm shocked that you would think me capable of such subterfuge," Miguel announced in mock horror.

"So, how long have you had this cat?" She leveled a steely glare at him, couldn't maintain the attitude and finally cracked a grin.

He reached over and gently took her hand. "Actually, I adopted her about twenty miles back when I realized I might need a way to beat a hasty retreat without… complicating matters."

He could see by the look on her face that she wasn't going to let him get away with that for an excuse. He let out a long sigh.

"OK, the truth is, I'd love to come in, but it's been a long dry spell, Sydney, and I am way too attracted to you. Not to mention, you have too many unresolved feelings for your partner. It's better for both of us if we just say good-bye right here."

He was right, of course. Damn it.

"So, I'll just leave you with this – " He handed her one of his business cards. She took it and started to say something, but he put a finger to her lips.

"And this," he added and leaned across the seat to place his lips where his finger had just been.

The kiss was light and tender and, Sydney mused, a little sad. It lasted just long enough to make her wish it had lasted longer. Unbidden, one of those questions she probably shouldn't ask came to mind.

"Miguel?"

"Yes."

"Who were you kissing just now?"

He had started to trace her jaw with his fingers, but stopped abruptly and sat upright on his side of the seat. For a heartbeat, his black eyes flashed with some dark emotion, but then it was gone.

"I guess I understand why you might wonder about that, but you needn't have. My wife is dead. I could meet her identical twin tomorrow and I would still know every minute of every day that she wasn't Belinda. I meant what I said before, Sydney. If Gage wasn't in the picture, you'd have a hard time getting rid of me, and not because you look a little like her, but because you are a beautiful, desirable woman in your own right."

Sydney looked away, caught a glimpse of herself in the passenger side mirror. Beautiful? Desirable? Me?

"You don't believe that about yourself, do you?" Miguel observed. He crooked his finger under her chin again and gently turned her to face him. "Just because Gage hasn't acknowledged his feelings for you yet, doesn't mean you aren't everything any sane man would want. I hope for your sake that he realizes what he's missing and does something about it, but even if he never comes around, don't ever think it's because there's anything wrong with you. I'm here to tell you, he's the one with the problem."

"Thank you, Miguel. You are a very special man. Would it be too much to ask for us to be friends?"

"Yes. But if our paths ever cross again at work, I wouldn't complain," he replied with a wistful smile.

Sydney started to open her door, but stopped when Miguel laid his hand on her shoulder. For a split second, she hoped he had changed his mind about staying, but she pushed the thought away when he told her to let him get the door for her.

He got out, walked around the front of the car and opened her door. She stepped out and he closed the door. They stood together on the sidewalk in the dark for a minute before either of them could speak.

"Goodnight, Miguel. It has truly been a pleasure meeting you," Sydney finally managed.

"Goodbye, Sydney. Be happy." He kissed her lightly on the forehead and then turned quickly to walk back around the car and get in, folding his long frame into the driver's seat. He waited until she had gone inside before he started the engine and slowly pulled away.

Standing in her living room in the dark, remembering Miguel's words, his kiss, Sydney felt something shift inside her. Her old image of herself was changing, growing right then and there into something new. She was more now than the short, plain girl who constantly had to fight to be accepted in a man's world. She was a woman, beautiful and desirable.

What had Miguel said? 'Everything any sane man would want.' The desire she had seen shining in Miguel's eyes was real, and it was for her. _For her._

She walked down the hallway and into her bedroom. She turned on the light and looked into the dresser mirror. She almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at her.

"Look out, Gage," she warned. "There's a new Sydney in town."


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: To all who reviewed the previous chapters, thank you for your kind words and constant inspiration. And to Pace Fan, my delightful, talented (and hopefully no longer sleep-deprived) beta, I couldn't do it without you. (Well, I could, but it wouldn't be right.) Please bear with me for the next chapter or two as the action will be take a back seat to some necessary character development. I promise the pace will pick up soon. Meanwhile, ladies, I hope you'll find a visual or two to enjoy in this chapter. (I know I did.)

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 11

The warm water soothed his tense muscles. Standing under the shower, Gage went through the relaxation exercises Walker had taught him as part of his tae kwon do training. He began by tightening the muscles in his face and neck and then releasing them. As he did so, he imagined the tension as a ball of yarn, unwinding with each muscle group he flexed and relaxed. He pictured the stress washing away like the soap bubbles sluicing off his shoulders, arms, back, abdomen, hips, thighs, calves, and finally, toes. When the yarn became one loose strand, he turned off the water, stepped from the shower and grabbed his towel.

As he rubbed his skin dry and ran the towel over his short, blond hair, he thought back over the drive home from Whitesboro. It had been a breeze traffic-wise; he'd practically been alone on the road for most of it. However, with nothing to distract him from thoughts of Sydney and the cozy lunch she was having with Montoya, his mind had whirled with images that put about a thousand kinks in his neck and shoulders. He pictured the two of them laughing and talking, their heads close together, their fingers intertwined; or, God forbid, feeding each other bites of dessert.

_Yuck_.

It wasn't until he was almost to Dallas that he realized he had a death grip on the steering wheel, which was the likely cause of the ache in his upper body.

Looking in the mirror, he realized that the shower and relaxation techniques had helped his body unwind, but his emotions were still one big jumble. His blue eyes stared back at him full of questions.

Why had Sydney's interest in Montoya bothered him? And if it bothered him, why did he practically push her into his arms when what he really wanted to do was…what? What _did_ he really want when it came to Sydney?

There was no denying he was attracted to her physically. She was gorgeous and that body –

_Whoa!_ _Down, boy!_

His own body's response to just the thought of her lithe form had him considering another shower, a cold one this time.

But no matter how she turned him on physically, he knew nothing could ever come of it. She wasn't the kind of woman who would settle for a no-strings-attached sexual relationship. Come to think of it, he'd never settle for that either, not just with Sydney, with anybody. He'd been intimate with two women in his life and had believed he was in love both times.

From what he knew of Sydney, he could tell she put her heart and soul into everything she did. He had no reason to believe her relationships would be any different, which meant that unless he was willing to put his heart and soul on the line, too…well, he just wasn't, so that was that.

While he shaved in preparation for his dinner date with Callie, he was still puzzling out the situation with Sydney. Staring himself in the face put him in something of a reflective mood, so he let his mind drift back over the past year since he and Sydney first met.

The two of them had become good friends; he might even say best friends. Initially, it surprised him to discover that his best friend was a woman, but the more he thought about it, the easier it was to explain. Neither of them had any family close by. They both worked more hours than they didn't, which left little time to cultivate friendships with anyone but each other.

As the newest members of Company B, he and Sydney were often given stakeout duty. Usually the bane of any law enforcement officer's existence, stakeouts became prime sharing time for them. They talked and laughed and even argued for hours on end. He had discovered that Sydney shared most of his tastes in everything from movies to fast food. Well, except anchovies. She loved them; he couldn't imagine why anybody would put little dead fish on pizza.

Two months ago, Sydney bought her two-bedroom Craftsman-style cottage in Lower Greenville, a small but affluent neighborhood filled with an eclectic mix of architectural styles from Spanish Modern to English Tudor. Gage had been the first to volunteer to help her move, although Walker, Alex and Jimmy had all done their share as well. He and Sydney spent a lot of their off time together, often at Sydney's house, which was much larger and more comfortable than his high-rise apartment in Walnut Hill. Whether it was watching rented movies or sharing Chinese take-out, everything they did together seemed to be more fun because she was part of it.

"Francis?" Julie called as she knocked lightly on the bathroom door.

He nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd all but forgotten that Julie was staying at his place tonight. She'd been discharged from the hospital, but was still in enough discomfort to not want to ride all the way back to her apartment in Pottsboro until tomorrow or Sunday. Besides, he'd just come back from that area and she didn't want to make him drive all the way there and back again tonight.

"Yeah, sis, what is it? You OK?" He didn't open the door, as he was still dressed in only a towel.

"The sofa bed doesn't have any sheets on it. Where are your extra ones?"

Sofa bed? When he'd rented this partially furnished, one-bedroom apartment, nobody told him the sofa was also a bed. Hmmm. He would never have thought to try to open the thing…Hey, wait a minute!

Modesty be damned, he yanked the door open and glared at his sister as he stalked past her into the living room. Sure enough, a queen-sized mattress extended from the couch frame into the middle of the room.

"What are you doing pulling out my sofa bed? Are you trying to put yourself back in the hospital? Geez, Julie, would it kill you to ask for help with things once in a while?" he bellowed. Was she ever going to let him take care of her? He had to have _some_ way to repay her for all the years she stood up for him.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she snapped back.

"Yeah, you are and I know it's not what you'd prefer. Maybe you'd rather have been in the safe house after all." She had been so overjoyed at not having to go to the safe house that, to Gage's unending surprise, she had readily agreed to stay with him for a day or two.

"No, I mean, I'm alive, Francis. You saved my life. How much more help do you want to be?" She spoke softly, her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, sweetie, don't cry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you." He crossed to her and hugged her close. "But it must have really hurt when you pulled this thing out. I hate knowing you're still hurting and then for you to go and do more harm to yourself when I'm right here to help – it kind of makes me crazy."

She stepped out of his hug and glanced down at his towel, which had loosened just a tad.

"Yeah, you do look a little, uh, nuts at the moment," she snickered.

Gage followed her gaze, realized his predicament and flushed a deep red all the way from his neck to his hair.

"Oh, crap!" he growled as he clasped the towel together, stomped down the short hall to his bedroom and slammed the door.

Julie's laughter followed him down the hall. "It's not like I haven't seen your birthday suit before, Francis."

"Not since I was eight! Trust me, things have changed!" Sisters! Sheesh!

"So, how about those sheets?" Julie queried.

"Uh, check the hall closet. If there are any clean ones, they'll be in there."

"Got it. Thanks," she replied.

Moving to his clothes closet, Gage studied his choices and decided on a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved blue chambray shirt that fit snugly enough to accentuate his broad shoulders and big biceps without actually looking like it was too small. He pulled on a pair of black roper boots and stood back to assess the whole package in the closet's mirrored door. Dashing, if he did say so himself.

Now if he could just figure out why he had Sydney on the brain when he was supposed to be looking forward to his date with Callie, he'd be all set.

It wasn't that he didn't want to go out with Callie; he really did, very much. But ever since things had gone south in Montoya's office this afternoon, Gage had been searching for answers. Trouble was, he wasn't even sure he knew all the questions.

Having mentally rehashed most of the off-duty activities he shared with Sydney, next he analyzed their work relationship. He had never had a partner who worked harder than she did. In some ways, she was a lot like Julie; she never quit until she got the job done, until she had uncovered the truth and solved the crime.

She never backed down from a fight. She could shoot straighter and run farther than most of the men he _knew_, let alone ones he had worked with. Hell, it took all he had just to keep from getting his butt kicked when the two of them sparred in the gym. Fortunately, he was just a little better at anticipating her moves than she was at guessing his, so he had yet to suffer the humiliation of actually coming out second best.

When he had requested Sydney as a partner, Walker's initial reaction was mostly positive, but the senior Ranger admitted to a certain hesitation due to her size. If anything, Gage had told him, her small stature was an advantage. Nobody expected such a big punch to come in such a small package, meaning that lots of bad guys underestimated her – once. After that, they showed her nothing but respect.

During the time they had worked undercover on the El Leon case, they had spent most of their time living and communicating as their 'cover characters', so as to not slip into their real personas at the wrong time. As a result, they hadn't shared much in the way of personal information with one another, which explained why Sydney didn't even know he had a sister until Julie got into trouble and needed to be rescued.

It also explained why Gage hadn't thought twice about having another female partner when the first time had turned into such an unmitigated disaster. At the time, he only knew Sydney the Ranger; he hadn't really met Sydney the woman.

Things with Lynne began differently than with Sydney, Gage recalled. The sparks had been flying between them for more than a year when they were assigned to ride together on the Houston police force. They maintained a professional distance for a while, but one thing had led to another and before long they were living together. If he had known how it would all end, he would have quit the force rather than work the same shift as her, let alone get into the same patrol car – or the same bed.

Which raised another question. If he had it to do over again, knowing what he knew now, would he still want Sydney for a partner? If he were really honest with himself – something he usually wasn't – he would have to say no. Not because she couldn't do the job, but because he could no longer separate Sydney the Ranger from Sydney the woman. And that might just lead right back to disaster.

Then, in typical head-in-the-sand fashion, he decided he didn't want to think about it anymore. What was the big deal anyway? Why was he going to the trouble of deciphering his feelings? He should just accept the fact that he couldn't have _feelings_ for Sydney, other than friendship, and get on with his life. They were partners, period. And if he needed a reminder of why stepping outside those lines was a bad idea, all he had to do was look at the .22 slug dangling from his key chain.

It occurred to him that Callie might be the solution to his problem. She was pretty and sweet and they shared a past. Well, a summer, anyway, when she was ten and he was twelve. Maybe if he really had stolen her heart that summer, he might still have a little piece of it. Maybe it could lead to something deeper, something that would make it possible for him to keep his relationship with Sydney purely professional without completely losing his mind.

From the moment he met Callie, some part of him had felt undeniably connected to her. He had wondered briefly if that was what people meant when they talked about love at first sight. But then their shared memories had explained a lot and he realized that the bond he felt was more _brotherly _than romantic.

"Great, just great," he admonished his reflection. "That's what I get for trying to get in touch with my feelings. Ugh."

Now if the occasion to kiss Callie presented itself – and until two seconds ago he was hoping it would – he'd have that whole _brotherly_ thing pinging around in his head. Wonderful.

After slapping on a dash of cologne, Gage left the bedroom and headed for the front door, stopping briefly at the kitchen counter to collect his keys and wallet. Before he could make it out the door, Julie rounded the corner from the living room and gave him a look that silently, but unmistakably, conveyed, _And where do you think you're going, young man?_

Gage sighed. "Julie, I told you I had a date tonight. Don't you think I'm a little old for you to be tracking my comings and goings, especially from my own apartment?"

"I don't care if you're running away to join the circus – remember when you threatened to do that? – I need some _help_ making up the sofa bed. Could you do that before you go?"

"Oh, sure. I'd be delighted," he replied, bowing low, happy that she had finally asked him to do something for her.

She smiled, did a sort of curtsy and headed for the kitchen. Over her shoulder she called, "Thanks for your help, little brother. Have fun on your date. I won't wait up."

He thought about telling her it was just dinner, but decided he'd rather keep his options open on that front. He _wasn't_ Callie's brother, after all.

As he tucked sheets and smoothed blankets onto the sofa bed's mattress, something about his 'delighted' comment kept poking at a corner of his mind, as though it was something he'd heard recently but couldn't remember where. He never used words like 'delighted', so where had it come from?

Just as he stuffed the first of two pillows into their cases, it came to him. The way Montoya had said it earlier made it sound like calling Sydney by her first name was the greatest honor anyone had ever bestowed on him.

"_Well, have at it, buddy. She lets _me_ call her _Syd," Gage silently taunted the trooper as he yanked on the second pillowcase. It took a second for the pathetic nature of his imaginary competition with Montoya to hit him. For crying out loud, what was wrong with him?

"Nothing that an evening with a tall, beautiful, blond EMT won't cure," he muttered under his breath. But if that was true, then why couldn't he get the lead out of his feet or the image of a petite, raven-haired Ranger out of his head?


	12. Chapter 12

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 12 (Rewrite)

**Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update, but since I'm posting two chapters, I hope I can be forgiven. I am hard at work on Chapter 14 and hope to have it finished and beta'd and posted before I leave for vacation on June 5 (not to return until June 13), but if I don't, it won't be for lack of trying.**

**To my fabulous beta, Pace Fan, once again, your comments and suggested edits have done wonders for these chapters. *Big virtual hug***

**To everyone who reviewed the previous chapters: You know who you are and how much I love you. Enjoy!  
**

_Slam! Clang!_

"Don't you just love that sound?" said a familiar voice.

Trent spun around to see his older brother, Collin, standing behind him in the men's locker room, smiling like he'd just won the lottery.

"Nothin' says you made it through another shift like the slamming of a couple dozen locker doors," Collin continued. The sound he spoke of echoed through the crowded locker room, as did the other sounds associated with shift-change at the fire station, running showers, buzzing razors, jingling belt buckles and the low rumble of male conversation.

"Hey, brother, what brings you to my station? You don't have enough fires to fight up in Celina?" Trent teased as he grasped Collin's right hand in his and pulled him into a one-armed hug, complete with mutual backslapping.

"See, I told you he'd forget. Good thing we came down here to get him." Sean Donnelly, the first born, always did know how to darken a room, but his sense of humor had all but completely vanished since their mother's death last winter.

"Hello, Sean," Trent greeted the older, taller man who had to squeeze past Collin to shake his youngest brother's hand. There was no levity in the moment whatsoever.

"Forget what?" Trent asked sheepishly, dreading the exasperated look he knew was coming. If the usual pattern held, the look would be followed immediately by a peacekeeping attempt by Collin. As the middle child, he was the self-appointed family arbitrator.

"Mom's headstone? Remember? Dad said he told you we were going to drive up to Sherman tonight to inspect it before we authorize delivery. We're sure as hell not paying them to deliver another one with half the words misspelled." Sean produced 'the look'. Some things never changed.

"Yeah, who would have thought 'Mary Ann Donnelly, beloved wife and mother', would be such a challenge?" Collin tossed in right on schedule, trying in vain to lighten the mood.

"How many of us does it take to do a spell check?" Trent mumbled under his breath as he stripped off his black uniform pants and stuffed them into the open duffel bag on the bench beside him. His white uniform shirt was already in the bag, which also held his uniforms from the previous three shifts this week.

"I suppose you have something more important to do than seeing to it that our mother's final resting place honors her appropriately?" Sean had learned the art of inflicting guilt from the master, but he couldn't do it with her style.

Mary Donnelly had a special talent for getting the Donnelly men – including his dad - and their baby sister, Kathleen, to do her bidding without ever actually asking them directly. Instead, she pointed out all the ways she would suffer if the chores didn't get done or if she had to do them herself. Then she stood back and let their inborn need to please their mama do the rest. She always made it sound purely practical, never mean or whiny—or sarcastic, like Sean.

The truth was Trent did have to talk to Callie before she went on her date with Ranger Gage. He had planned to do it in person, since he had a surprise for her. If push came to shove, however, he could tell her about it over the phone, but Sean didn't have to know that.

"As a matter of fact, there is something I have to do, but it should only take me about an hour, maybe less. I'll meet you at the ranch. I assume Dad and Kathleen are coming with us?" Trent offered.

"Well, it's almost six-thirty now. Pearson's, the stone carver, closes at nine o'clock. It's an hour's drive from the ranch to Pearson's and Dad was hoping we could all have dinner at the main house before we left. Olivia made Mom's pot roast and Jenna baked cherry pie for dessert," Sean stated. He knew Trent had a weakness for his wife's cooking and Collin's new bride made the best cherry pie in three counties.

While Sean laid out the evening's agenda and menu, Trent dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt.

"Sean, you know I would rather not miss either of those culinary delights," he said as he pulled on his well-worn cowboy boots, "but it can't be helped. I have to see somebody in the West End. It should only take a few minutes. I can be in Celina no later than seven-thirty, I swear." Trent held up his right hand, but crossed the fingers of his left hand behind his back. He'd be pushing it to get to the ranch by seven forty-five, maybe even eight o'clock. So what else was new? Trent seemed to make a career out of disappointing his family, a fact Sean never failed to point out whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"If you say so. Don't be late, Trent. You don't want to upset Dad. He's got enough to worry about."

"I know, Sean. I talk to him everyday, too. Just because I don't live at the D-Five doesn't mean I don't keep up with what's going on," Trent shot back, slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder. The tension mounted as the three Donnelly men exited the locker room and headed for the station's front door.

"So, what's in the West End, little brother? You got a date?" Collin put in. Peacekeeping was Collin's special calling, but matchmaking ran a close second. Since he and Jenna got married two months ago, Collin had been on a mission to find Trent a wife. Trent knew it was just a manifestation of his brother's natural optimism; he believed everyone should be as happy as he was. But to Trent, Collin's enthusiasm on this subject was beginning to wear thin.

Of course, it didn't help that Trent couldn't tell any of them about Callie. Sean and Collin were both firefighters with the Celina Fire Department. Their dad, Casey, was weeks away from retiring after thirty years as an arson investigator with the Dallas Fire Department. All three boys had grown up in and around fire stations and were well aware of the department's most sacred unwritten rule.

"Oh, sure, man, I'm gonna show the lady a real nice time inside of ten minutes, or maybe I could bring her back to the homestead with me so she can join us to go look at a gravestone? Of course, I don't have a date, you knucklehead!" Trent chastised him, grabbing Collin around the neck, pulling his head down and rapping him soundly on the noggin with his knuckles. "Just because you love being married and spend every waking minute trying to get Jenna pregnant, doesn't mean I'm ready for the old ball and chain and a passel of rug rats."

"So, what are you doing down there? It hardly seems worth the trip for just a few minutes," Sean probed. Translation: _You better have a really good reason for upsetting Dad._

"I'm looking at a motorcycle Callie's cousin in selling. He works down there and he's got another buyer who's interested, so I want to get a look at it sooner rather than later," Trent lied. "If it's really what I'm looking for, I can give the guy a deposit and he'll tell the other guy no dice." Since Trent and his dad shared a love of all things Harley-Davidson, this story practically gave him carte blanche.

Sean glared at him. Trent had the good sense to suppress the smirk he felt tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Where is Callie? She light out early today?" Collin asked as they approached his dark green SUV.

"Guess so. She mentioned she had a date tonight," Trent replied casually. Actually, he knew exactly when she left and where she was going. As soon as he ditched his family, he was going to drive like hell to catch up with her so they could talk before she was supposed to meet Gage.

"Lucky fella, her date. That girl's got more looks than any one woman has a right to, and guts, too," Collin mused.

"Oh, you don't have to sing her praises to Trent, does he, little brother?" Sean shot Trent a sidelong glance that made his heart skip a beat. Had Sean found out about him and Callie? No, Sean was about as subtle as a runaway train, especially when he was angry. If he even suspected that Trent was sleeping with his partner, he wouldn't be dropping hints. He'd have come at him head-on.

"That's right, big brother, I know I couldn't ask for a better partner," Trent confirmed. Silently, he added, _at work, in bed, or anywhere else._

Collin and Sean climbed into the SUV and Trent turned to go, his thoughts already racing ahead to how he was going to tell Callie about his surprise.

"See you about seven-thirty, then," Collin called as he closed the driver's door. Trent turned back, waved and watched them drive away before sprinting across the parking lot to his truck.

-----

He caught sight of her car just as it entered the parking garage. He had hoped she would take her time getting ready before coming here to meet Gage. She must have done so, because he had arrived here ahead of her by about five minutes. Parked along the far wall of the garage, Trent watched as she cruised the lot looking for a space.

He saw that her hair was not in its usual French braid and the mild jealousy he'd been feeling ever since Callie and Gage met ratcheted up a notch. He didn't like it that she got dressed up and let her hair down for _him._

Unbidden, a memory flashed into his head of the first time he'd seen her out of uniform. It all started with an accidental glimpse of her underwear…

_He was on his way to the station's main ambulance bay when, just as he passed the women's locker room, an EMT named Margie Donahue flung the door open and stepped out. Startled by Margie's sudden appearance in his path, he glanced up. Before the door could swing shut, he caught sight of Callie crossing the room wearing only a lacy lavender bra and a pair of matching bikini panties, her long blond hair draping down her back._

_He did an about-face so fast his neck nearly snapped, but it was too late. The image was burned into his soul. The sight of that bra lifted his arousal and separated him from his common sense. And nothing was ever the same again…_

The 'beep' of a car alarm being set brought him out of his reverie. For a second, he panicked thinking he'd missed Callie while he was daydreaming, but a quick scan of the lot revealed her car still circling the rows nearest the entrance. Wanting to remain out of sight for the time being, he settled back against the seat and relived the chain of events that led from that fateful day to this.

He had tried to focus on her knowledge and skills as an EMT, her quick thinking, and her bravery, anything but what a fabulous body she had and how much he wanted to explore every glorious inch of it.

When that didn't work, he thought maybe he could purge the fantasy from his mind if he let it play out to its natural conclusion. He got as far as envisioning Callie in lavender lace and a pair of black, patent leather stiletto heels. Big mistake.

His next tactic was to treat her like the enemy. He spoke to her only when necessary, refused to be alone with her anywhere other than the rig and generally behaved as though he wished she were anywhere but with him. He almost hoped she'd get tired of the abuse he hated heaping on her and ask to be reassigned. As much as he didn't really want to lose her as a partner, if she left, at least he could stop feeling like a heel all the time.

Then, one day on the way back to the station from the hospital, she cracked…

_From the corner of his eye, he could see that she wanted to say something to him. She opened her mouth, closed it again. A determined look came into her eyes, like she had made up her mind to do something against her better judgment._

_Before she could start to speak, he set his jaw and sighed heavily, a clear indication that he didn't want to hear whatever it was she wanted to say._

_Her determination crumbled along with her face. She broke down and wept._

"_What is wrong with you?" she sobbed. "What is wrong with me that makes you hate me so much? What did I do? Please just tell me, because I can't stand this anymore!"_

_Every word of her tirade felt like a blow to his gut. He was shaking all over, but he managed to pull the rig over to the curb without hitting anything. He got out, stalked around to her side, yanked open her door, unlatched her seat belt and hauled her out onto the sidewalk. He wondered if she might knock him on his butt for manhandling her like that, but instead she let him lead her into a narrow walkway between two storefronts. He turned around and glared down at her._

"_I can't stand it anymore either!" he ground out as he crushed his lips over hers. He didn't let up until he felt her lips soften and yield to his desperate kiss. Her next move rocked him to the core; she shoved him up against the brick wall and kissed him back like she'd die if she didn't._

"_Oh, God, Trent, I've wanted to do that for so long!" she confessed as she clung to him, trembling with desire._

"_You have? I've been in agony for weeks, ever since I saw that purple bra," he bit off as he plundered her neck with his lips…_

How they had managed to finish the shift that day without giving themselves away, he still had no idea, but they did. They had agreed to meet at a motel after work, to 'discuss their options' for how to handle what was now an undeniable, mutual attraction. Who was he kidding? It was the hottest, most mind-blowing 'discussion' of his entire life and he knew even then he had only one option—to never, ever let her go.

Looking out into the parking lot again, he saw the brake lights on Callie's car wink off as she settled the vehicle into a space three rows in front of him. He quietly slipped out of the truck, gently latched the door and quickly made his way toward her, careful to stay ducked down below the roofs of the parked cars.

-----

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. Callie could _feel_ someone following her as she walked away from her car in the parking garage downtown. Unseen, unheard, whomever it was on her trail moved with the stealth of a jungle cat hunting its prey.

Before she could turn around, strong arms grabbed her from behind, slamming her up against a lean, muscular body. A hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her screams. She would have bitten a chunk out of his palm if she hadn't recognized his aftershave.

He whirled her around to face him, moving his hand at the last second before his lips pressed into hers. She gasped, giving him all the room he needed to sweep his tongue into her mouth. Her heart rate launched into the stratosphere. She wound her arms around his neck. He half-dragged, half-walked her deeper into the shadows of the garage, all without once breaking the kiss.

Well-hidden from the main parking area by a wide concrete pillar, he continued to kiss her until she slid her hands down his chest and tried to push him away.

"Good Lord, Trent! If I hadn't recognized your aftershave, I'd have taken a bite out of you!" Callie chastised him once he'd backed off a little.

"Uh, honey, I hate to break this to you, but I'm not the only guy in town who wears this stuff. I'm glad you didn't bite me, but you might want to use more than your nose to identify an attacker," he admonished her, "even if it is the cutest nose in Christendom."

To emphasize his point, he rubbed his nose against hers, Eskimo-style.

"Blind, deaf, dumb and wearing nose plugs, I would know the feel of your arms around me, your hands touching me and, most familiar of all, your lips kissing me any day of the week. And don't you forget it."

He smiled down at her. "Actually, I came here just now to make sure _you_ don't forget it."

"Why Trent Donnelly, you don't mean to tell me that you are actually jealous of Ranger Gage now, do you?" she said in her best Scarlet O'Hara impersonation.

"Well, yes, a little. I saw how you two cozied up to one another at the hospital the other day. I think he really has the hots for you," Trent stated without a shred of sarcasm.

"You're projecting, cowboy. Just because you can't keep your hands off me, doesn't mean every man east of Fort Worth wants to jump my bones. Gage is just a friend."

Callie hesitated, remembering her decision to keep the particulars of her history with Gage to herself. Then she decided that the last thing the two of them needed was to keep any more secrets.

The clandestine nature of their relationship was already threatening her dream of someday marrying Trent and having his children. Well, she supposed, they could get married secretly – perhaps in Mexico, without rings – and add another layer of lies to the pile, but children had a way of making themselves evident. She knew herself well enough to know that she wouldn't want one without the other, so it was better to not have either. At least, that's what she told herself when she woke up in the middle of the night, alone, aching to feel him next to her, desperate to feel his baby growing inside her.

Of course, she hadn't shared any of her longings with him. She didn't see the point. He had never mentioned marriage or children, other than to say that he didn't appreciate his brothers harassing him about starting a family. When their relationship went from professional to personal, he had pointedly asked her if she was on the Pill and was more than a little relieved when she said she was. She took that to mean that if he did want children, he certainly didn't want them right now. She didn't want to think about the possibility that he might not want them at all – or with her.

No, she was keeping enough secrets; it was time for a little truth. Besides, Trent had told her the truth about being jealous of Gage. She owed it to him to tell him the whole story.

"He's a very old friend, in fact. The other night when his sister coded and he called me to come to the hospital, we realized that the reason we felt like we knew each other was because we did. We met during the summer I lived in Houston with my grandfather," she explained.

"You mean the first time? When you were ten?" he questioned.

"Yes. I was really lonely for a while, but there was this playground in our neighborhood and I'd go there sometimes, hoping to make a friend. Most of the girls were a lot older or a lot younger than me, so I never really got close to any of them. But Gage and his foster brothers were closer to my age, so I pestered them to let me play 'capture the flag' with them. Gage was the one who finally convinced the rest to let me be the lookout.

"As a way of thanking them for letting me play, the next day I brought some peanut butter sandwiches for a sort of picnic. They ate like they hadn't had food in a week. I learned later that wasn't too far from the truth. His foster parents were-- " She faltered, unsure how much to say.

"Jerks?" he offered.

"Abusive," she corrected, deciding not to sugarcoat it. The Hensons deserved no quarter.

"That's rough. Why was he in foster care?"

"His parents were killed in a car accident and he and Julie had no one who could take them both in, so they ended up in a foster group home."

"Man, that is awful, first to lose their parents and then to be handed over to people who abused them. Didn't anybody check on them, see what was going on?"

"Gage didn't talk about it much, but one day he showed up with a huge bruise on his face. When I asked him about it, he said his foster father had hit him. I wanted to tell my grandfather, but he begged me not to. He said his foster parents told him and his sister that if they complained, they might be sent somewhere else, but they would definitely be separated, and neither of them wanted that," she explained.

While Trent couldn't relate at all to the abusiveness of Gage's childhood home, he did understand the desire to not be separated from his sister. He and Sean might have their issues, but by and large the Donnelly family was large and loving, almost to a fault.

Thoughts of his family reminded him he was on a tight schedule, so he needed to get on with telling Callie about his surprise.

"So, where is Gage taking you for dinner?" he asked casually.

"We talked about going to Spaghetti Warehouse, but I don't think my stomach can handle anything that heavy right now. I've been kind of queasy since lunch. We'll probably end up at Landry's. Seafood sounds good."

"Good. I'm glad you're not hungry for Mexican tonight, because I want to take you out for a special Mexican dinner tomorrow night," Trent announced.

"You do? Really?" Callie could hardly believe her ears. He wanted to take her _out_? "Out, as in, out in public?"

"Of course. Unless you have a Mexican chef stashed in your house somewhere," he kidded her.

She eyed him suspiciously. He looked like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. "Spill it," she ordered.

"We have reservations at the Zuni Grill at seven o'clock," he told her, his azure eyes brimming with mischief.

She felt like she was staring at a puzzle with one piece missing. The picture was almost complete, but not quite. She was starting to not like it.

"Zuni Grill? The only Zuni Grill I know of is in—San Antonio! You're taking me to San Antonio? For dinner?" She was bouncing between excitement and confusion.

"No, silly, for the whole weekend. Surprise."

She leaped into his arms and kissed him for all she was worth. When she finally relinquished his lips, he detailed their plans.

"We both have the next three days off, so I booked us airline tickets, dinner reservations and a room at the Marriott on the River Walk. Do you want to know what I'm looking forward to the most?"

"What?" she asked, hoping his answer would match her own.

"Being able to sleep with you all night long and wake up next to you in the morning."

_Yippee!_

"Oh, Trent, that's what I want most, too. We can also hold hands and kiss and not care who sees us, just like a normal couple."

As soon as the words left her lips, she wished she could take them back. She didn't want him to think she was unhappy with the way things were. She often was, but she didn't want him to know that.

"I guess our situation isn't exactly 'normal', is it? Callie—" He paused, took a long, deep breath, let it out again. When he looked at her, his eyes were filled with worry. "Do you regret getting involved with me?"

"No! Oh, no, not for a second," she assured him. It was true. She didn't regret her relationship with him. How could she? He was the man of her dreams, her soul mate. The anti-fraternization policy wasn't his doing. She had gone into this thing with her eyes wide open.

"Really? Because sometimes I think you do. I think you wish there could be, I don't know, _more_."

That was the real reason he had come down here tonight, the real reason he wanted to take her away for the weekend. He suspected that she had looked into the future and found it missing the things she must truly want. Didn't all women want to get married and have babies? She would make a wonderful mother. Who was he to expect her to deny her maternal instincts for a life of stolen kisses and hot motel room sex? Even if children weren't part of the picture, she deserved to be loved openly, to share all the little intimacies of a 'normal' relationship.

He had sensed something different about the connection between Callie and Gage, something powerful, and it had worried him. There were no rules against fraternizing with members of other public service professions. Callie the EMT and Gage the Ranger could 'fraternize' on every corner of the city in broad daylight from now until the end of time with no threat whatsoever to either of their jobs. With Gage, she could be an EMT and a wife and mother. With Trent, at some point, she would have to choose.

"Well, I can't imagine how I could ask for more than a gorgeous man who loves me like no other, who is probably spending his last dime to take me on a wonderful trip to San Antonio and whose fondest wish is to sleep with me all night," she stated with pure sincerity. She hastened to add, "After several rounds of mind-bending, bone-melting sex, of course."

"Of course," he replied with a devilish smile and kissed her until her knees went weak.

She was right about spending his last dime, too. He'd probably have to work a month's worth of extra shifts to pay off the credit card, but he didn't care. If being a 'normal' couple was what she needed, then that was what he wanted to give her, at least temporarily. He only hoped that a weekend would be enough, and not just leave her craving a life he wasn't prepared to maintain past Monday.


	13. Chapter 13

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 13

Gage parked his truck in the lot across the street from the Spaghetti Warehouse and headed toward the restaurant where he and Callie had agreed to meet. As he neared the front door, he saw Callie sitting at one of the outdoor patio tables. With a start, he realized it was the first time he'd seen her wearing anything other than her EMT uniform. She was positively lovely.

Her hair was a mass of blond waves and spirals that fell loosely down her back and around her heart-shaped face. Her sleeveless turquoise tunic and long, flowing white skirt both appeared to be made of the same gauzy fabric. Her jewelry was silver – large hoop earrings, a liquid silver necklace and an array of jangling bangle bracelets. A silver and turquoise belt hung at the top of her hips. On her feet she wore a pair of delicate white sandals. Only her toenails broke the pattern; they were hot pink.

His first thought was that she looked like a gypsy, but he'd never seen one with blond hair before. In the movies, gypsies were always dark and sultry, like Syd…

_No. Tonight is about Callie._

"Hi," Gage said, smiling and waving from outside the low black iron fence surrounding the patio.

She stood, walked over to him and gave him as much of a hug as the fence would allow. When they stepped apart, he continued to hold her hands in his.

"Hi yourself," Callie answered.

"You look great. Really. Great," he gushed, his eyes moving slowly from her head to her toes. He imagined her dancing to drums and tambourines, her skirt swirling to the music, showing off her bare thighs in the light of a campfire. His mind's eye lingered on those legs, but when he looked into his dream gypsy's face again, Sydney's dark eyes flashed back at him, her raven hair falling across bare shoulders.

_Oh, sweet mercy._

"Thank you. So do you," she returned.

"What? Oh, thanks," he stuttered, as he tried to shake the images from his head, images of another woman – the wrong woman.

_Then why does she feel so right?_

He shoved the thought away almost before it formed completely in his head. Almost.

Callie noticed the distracted look on Gage's face. It appeared as though he were looking at something or someone over her left shoulder. She glanced briefly behind her and then turned back to face him.

"Somebody following us?" she asked, half-joking. After all, her date _was_ in a rather dangerous profession. Who knew what perils might be lurking in the shadows?

"Huh? I'm sorry. What did you say?" he asked, his eyes coming to rest squarely on hers. The distracted look disappeared. The color of his eyes deepened from blue-gray to a darker hue, like the ocean on a cloudy day.

"I asked if someone was following us. You seemed to be staring off at something behind me. I was kidding, actually, but if something is wrong…" She let the thought trail off, unsettled by the intensity of his gaze.

He chuckled. "No, nothing is wrong. But there is something I'd like to do that might help keep my attention where it belongs."

She gulped, sensing what was coming. Trent's eyes changed color like that when he was about to…

Gage kissed her. He reached out, gently took her face in his hands and slanted his lips over hers. He was tentative at first, but when she closed her eyes and started to kiss him back, he dropped his hands to her waist and leaned in to gather her closer.

Her lips were soft and warm, like he knew they would be. He increased the pressure a bit when he felt her responding to him. Maybe if he held her closer the fireworks would start.

_Brotherly, my butt._

A sharp pain bit into the inside of his upper thigh.

"Ouch!" he cried as he abruptly broke the kiss and jerked back.

"What happened?" she asked, clearly shaken. She was shocked at her instantaneous response to his touch. Kissing him back was automatic, but it shouldn't have been; she had more self-control than that. Didn't she?

"The fence stabbed me in the—uh, groin," he growled, pointing to the spiked rails of the metal barrier that was still between them.

"Oops, sorry." She winced sympathetically.

"No, no, it was my fault. That's what I get for moving faster than I should have in the first place." For a second, he considered calling it a night right then and there. Between his visions of Syd and a miscue that nearly had him singing soprano, the evening thus far had not been a raging success. Callie must have sensed his misgivings.

"Look at it this way. The worst has to be behind us, right? Like when the airplane crashes into the house in 'The World According to Garp' and Robin Williams says they should buy the house anyway, because _now_ it's disaster-proof," she offered.

"Is that your way of saying the kiss was a disaster?" He sounded wounded, but he was smiling.

"Not at all. It wasn't…disastrous." Her lowered eyes and hesitant tone clearly indicated there was something she _wasn't_ saying.

"My ego is going to regret this, I just know it. There's a 'but' in there somewhere, isn't there?"

She paused to consider her answer. How much could she tell him? Glancing down at the fence again, she offered silent thanks for its interruption, and then opted for a delaying tactic to give her more time to think.

"Can we talk about it while we eat?" she posed.

"Sure. Is this place still OK with you, or would you like to go somewhere else?" Gage figured he could do with a change of scenery. He'd already gotten a few snickers and a glare or two for yelping when he was 'attacked'.

"You must have read my mind," Callie replied. "I was hoping we could walk over to Landry's. Do you like seafood?"

He thought about telling her the old joke about being on a 'seafood diet' – _if I see food, I eat it_ – but that would just remind him of how Syd always teased him about his insatiable appetite. Then, the next thing he knew he'd be going on and on about how great Syd was and God knew he didn't need to do that.

So, instead he answered simply, "I love it. Let's go."

He waited while she made her way across the patio, out the gate near the front door and around the outside of the fence. When she joined him, he thought about holding her hand, but thought better of it. They walked the two blocks to Landry's in silence, side by side, not touching.

By the time they reached the restaurant, Callie had made up her mind to tell Gage about Trent. She'd kept his secrets long ago; she had no reason to believe he wouldn't keep hers now.

Besides, if that impromptu kiss was any indication, he might be interested in being more than friends with her and it wouldn't be fair to lead him on. She could use a friend, a confidant. She didn't want to be limited to the 'two date' maximum with Gage. The only way to get beyond that was to tell him the truth.

The dinner hour was long past, so the hostess at Landry's was able to seat them immediately at a table for two next to a large double-sided fireplace in the center of the spacious dining room. While Gage studied his menu, Callie worked up her courage to reveal a few facts and maybe ask a few questions.

Gage wasn't so much reading the menu as hiding behind it while he debated whether to just cut his losses and try to make a graceful exit, or stay and ride out what was swiftly becoming the mother-of-all-awkward-situations. It was entirely his fault. He should never have kissed Callie. At the very least, he should have waited until after dinner. He never claimed to be the sharpest knife in the drawer when it came to women, but how could he have been so stupid as to think that kissing Callie – across an iron fence, no less – was the best way to erase all thought of Syd? He owed Callie an apology.

"Callie, listen, I—" he began.

"Gage, about the kiss—" she started.

Their voices overlapped.

"OK, this time you go first," Gage prompted, referring to the first time they talked over each other, the night at the hospital when they discovered their mutual memories.

"Alright. Why did you kiss me?" She wasn't one for hemming and hawing.

"Before I answer that, I need to know something," he replied, looking at her expectantly.

"No, Gage, no sparks. Sorry," she told him, answering the question she knew was coming next. She was grateful to see the relief in his eyes. Apparently, there hadn't been any for him either. Whew!

"I'm the one who should apologize. It was completely inappropriate," he confessed.

"Don't beat yourself up about it. I saw you coming; I could have stopped you."

"Why didn't you?"

She rested her elbows on the table, laced her fingers together and propped her chin on her hands. She smiled wistfully and said, "I was satisfying a twenty-year-old curiosity."

"And?"

"And now I know that while my blue-eyed crush didn't grow up to be my Prince Charming, I'd like very much to have him as a friend."

Gage watched the firelight play across her face as she smiled at him. Something in her eyes took him back to the moment in the ambulance when she had first told him that Julie would be all right. Her smile that day had warmed him all over. He felt that same comfortable companionship now.

"I'd really like that, too," he agreed.

The waiter's appearance halted their conversation briefly and forced them to turn their attention back to the menus they had laid aside. He gave them each a crystal goblet filled with ice water, took their orders – Chilean sea bass for Gage and mahi mahi for Callie – and placed a basket of fresh baked rolls on the table before returning to the kitchen.

"Really? No sparks at all, huh?" He had been just the tiniest bit stung by her assessment.

"Oh, it was…nice, pleasant, even. But you were doomed before you began," she said, looking at him pointedly over the top of her water glass.

The light bulb snapped on and Gage understood what she was trying to tell him.

"You're spoken for. You're only here because you expected this to be just a friendly dinner. Oh, boy, now I really feel stupid."

"Please don't be upset. Yes, there is someone in my life, someone I love very much, but…it's, well, complicated," she fumbled.

"Complicated how? He isn't married, is he?" If he was, Gage knew that would completely change his opinion of Callie, and not in a good way.

"NO! Good Lord, Gage, I would never do that." Her level of indignation told him she was sincere.

"Then what's the complication?"

"He's my partner."

Gage's heart leaped into his throat. Talk about your freakish coincidences! He fought to keep from reacting outwardly. Calling on his extensive undercover experience, he masked his incredulity with a hard won expression of calm acceptance.

"Your partner, Trent," he confirmed matter-of-factly.

Callie nodded. She was surprised that her revelation had almost no effect on him at all. She would have sworn there was something going on between Gage and his partner. Maybe she had misinterpreted the vibes she'd gotten from the beautiful Latina that day at the hospital. Or maybe that muscle she noticed working furiously in Gage's jaw was doing more than just crunching the ice in his water.

"If you're dating Trent, then what exactly are you doing here, with me?"

"Keeping up appearances for my coworkers and superiors at the fire department."

"Appearances?" he queried, guessing where she may be going.

"I'm sure you're familiar with anti-fraternization policies," Callie clarified. She decided to test him a bit. She watched him closely for any break in his calm demeanor as she continued.

"Trent and I have had to go to great lengths to keep our relationship unnoticed by the powers that be so we can maintain our partnership. I'm sure, having your beautiful partner, you understand how easily people can get the wrong idea. Or in our case the right idea we don't want them to have."

She noticed how calm Gage remained. Too calm.

Gage's insides were in turmoil. Did she guess how he felt about Syd? But he also realized that his undercover analogy fit perfectly and it gave him an idea.

"So, would it help if you appeared to begin a relationship with someone outside the department? Someone who could show up now and then, even interact with your coworkers as your boyfriend, maybe?"

"Maybe. I'd have to see how Trent felt about it. I take it you'd be volunteering for the assignment?"

"I would."

"Why? Why tie yourself into a pretend relationship?" she wondered, even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

_To avoid falling head-over-heels into a real one,_ he silently admitted. Out loud he was more cryptic.

"I have my reasons and, for now, I'd like to leave it at that. You don't have to take me up on the offer, but if you do, it's no questions asked, OK?"

'Well, one question while I think it over," she bargained.

"OK, one question."

"Would this be a two-way street, as in would I be introduced to your coworkers as your girlfriend?"

Gage felt a stab of guilt as he pictured that particular moment with Syd. It wouldn't be a hard sell, considering that she already thought he and Callie were moving in that direction, but letting her think something and actually shoving it in her face were two different things.

Then again, he might be giving himself too much credit. Any feelings Syd may have had for him seemed to disappear the minute Montoya opened his office door. Heck, she'd probably accuse him of being an arrogant SOB for assuming that she gave a damn one way or the other who he dated.

"Yes, it would be a two-way street. Does that change things?" he posed.

Callie hesitated. She couldn't go into this without knowing his reasons. From what she'd seen so far, Gage didn't have a malicious bone in his body, but she had to be sure he wasn't using her to deliberately try to hurt someone.

"It might. I have to know why you're doing this, if only to assure myself you're not using me to hurt someone else, or to try to make them jealous," she said, hoping he would remember Sydney's reaction to her the first time the two women met.

He almost laughed at the irony; she was concerned that he was trying to hurt Syd, when in fact he was trying to _prevent_ that very thing.

"Actually, there is someone who may be hurt a little, at first, but in the end, I think it will all work out for the best. Kind of like getting a tooth filled. You deal with a little pain from the drill to avoid a lot of pain from the cavity."

"Who needs the dental work, Gage?" Callie pinned him with a look that said she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from him.

"God save me from perceptive women," he said, shaking his head. "Alright, here goes. A long time ago, when I was a cop in Houston, I got involved with a woman who was also my partner. It ended badly, to say the least. I care too much about Sydney, and our partnership is too valuable to me, to let that happen again. Taking on this 'assignment', as you called it, is just a way of making sure the boundaries stay where they belong, so that neither one of us gets hurt."

He neglected to mention that deep down he knew he was already falling for Syd and that this little charade was a desperate attempt to protect himself from an all-too-familiar hell, a last ditch effort to hold onto the best partner he could ever hope to have and his sanity at the same time.

"Callie, you of all people have to understand where I'm coming from. You and Trent obviously value your partnership very highly or you wouldn't have gone to such great lengths to stay together on the job. I learned the hard way that mixing personal and work relationships doesn't work for me. Believe me, breaking up our partnership would hurt Sydney and me a whole lot more than getting past whatever attraction we may have for each other."

_Yeah, right._ _Who are you kidding? _ The pesky little voice was back. Gage ignored it, but he was beginning to understand how some people were driven to drink.

Callie looked at him for a long minute before she responded. She knew from experience that he was only delaying the inevitable. If he was half as in love with Sydney as she suspected he was, it wouldn't take long for him to realize that denying his feelings was a whole lot more painful than accepting them. Maybe if she went along with this scheme for a while, she could help him come to that conclusion sooner rather than later.

"OK, I'm in, assuming Trent agrees. He's taking me to San Antonio for the weekend, so I'll call you when we get back," she said, unable to hide her excitement about the trip.

"Well, here's to a great weekend for you," Gage replied, raising his water glass in a toast. "And to a successful 'assignment' for me."

She raised her glass, clinked it with his and drank when he did. She couldn't help noticing that the muscle in his jaw was still flexing rhythmically even though all the ice in his glass had melted.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you, everyone who reviewed the previous chapters. And of course, Pace Fan, you've saved my bacon again. Enjoy!**

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 14

Sydney spent most of Saturday puzzling out the whole Gage situation. Whatever feelings existed between them beyond friendship, she had decided, deserved to be explored. Well, at least discussed. If nothing else, she had to know if what Miguel had told her was true. Had Gage really been running away on Friday? Had he taken off like that because he felt more for her than he wanted to?

She came to the conclusion that his hasty retreat was a defense mechanism. For some reason, he felt it necessary to protect himself, but from what? Well, from her. Duh. But why? What did he have to fear from her?

Rejection. It hit her like a meteor.

Assuming he felt more for her than friendship, then he must be afraid that she didn't feel the same way. Now that she thought about it, she had never given him a reason to believe otherwise. In all the time they had spent together, growing closer and closer, becoming best friends, she had never let him see that she had deeper feelings for him. Actually, she hadn't even let herself acknowledge those feelings, until the day they rescued Julie. Something about seeing how much Gage cared for his sister had pushed the tenderness and affection she had always felt for him to the surface. But he still didn't know that.

That was going to change. Oh, she wasn't going to throw herself on his lap and kiss him senseless right there in the office. Wouldn't that just knock his socks off! But no, she realized she needed to go slowly and be a bit more subtle than that. She also realized she was in very unfamiliar territory, which was why she called in an expert to help her execute her plan.

Alex Cahill had launched an all out attack on Cordell Walker's closely guarded heart and now the two of them were engaged. If anybody would know how Sydney should go about letting Gage know she was interested in being more than friends, it was Alex.

Sydney called her friend on Sunday and invited her to lunch at her house.

"Alex, I'm not usually very good at asking people for help, but I don't think I can handle this…situation…by myself," she began rather cryptically when she and Alex sat down to the lunch Sydney had prepared for them.

"Sydney, what is it? Are you in some kind of trouble?" Alex replied, her concern evident.

"No, it's nothing bad or dangerous. It's sort of personal, but it involves someone at work, so it's…complicated," she fumbled.

"So, did your partner finally kiss you?" Alex tossed off as she sipped her iced tea.

"'Well, no, I thought he was going to on Friday, but—" Sydney stopped, her forkful of salad suspended in front of her, a look of utter horror on her face.

Alex tried to stifle her laughter, but she had to let it go or her face would have cracked into a million pieces.

"Don't look so shocked. I saw the signs weeks ago," Alex revealed as her giggles subsided. "A man doesn't agree to help a woman move into her new house if all he thinks he'll ever get out of it is free pizza and beer. You didn't even have to ask for his help. He volunteered. He's crazy about you, Sydney, he just hasn't realized it yet."

Sydney continued to gape at her.

Alex's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Or are you saying that you don't feel that way about him? Is that the problem?"

"Uh…no, I mean…" Sydney stammered.

"Oh, dear, I didn't mean to ambush you like that. How about if you take a deep breath and start over with why you need my help," Alex suggested.

Sydney did just that. She told Alex about everything that had happened since she had realized she was falling for her partner. She mentioned Callie, as well as Gage's seeming fascination with her. She told her about the almost-kiss during the search for her keys and detailed what happened with Miguel. She ended by sharing her thoughts on why Gage left Whitesboro in such a hurry.

"So that's when it dawned on me that maybe he's afraid he's the only one who feels this way. With the way I was acting in Miguel's office, I can see how he might think that. Heck, after that, I wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to speak to me again," she concluded.

"Well, there's no danger of that happening, I guarantee you. So, you're saying you need a way to let him know that you are interested in being more than partners, if in fact, that is what he wants, too. Have I got that right?" Alex confirmed.

"Exactly. The problem is the 'if'. I know he likes me. We're great friends and the chemistry—for lack of a better word—that we have at work is so strong that it has to be mutual. What I don't know is if it really goes any deeper than that for him, and if it does, why is he so scared to tell me? He can't think that I would hurt him on purpose, can he?"

"Honey, there is nothing on earth more frightening to a man than losing control of his feelings. Most of them would sooner jump out of an airplane without a parachute and land in a pit of rattlesnakes than risk giving a woman the key to their heart. Walker did all that and more before he figured out that I was in this for the long haul. The trick is to take away the 'risk' part without making yourself look too—uh—eager," Alex explained.

"So can you teach me the trick?" Sydney asked hopefully.

"See this diamond on my finger? Yes, Sydney, I can definitely teach you the trick," Alex replied confidently, as her engagement ring sparkled in the afternoon sunshine.

At Alex's insistence, the rest of Sunday afternoon was spent shopping for everything from makeup to clothes that were suitable for work but also showed off Sydney's feminine side. A bit of lace detail here, a flash of cherry red lipstick there and—voila! She'd be bursting with subtle sex appeal that Gage was bound to notice. Or so Alex promised.

Another way to be sure he noticed her, Alex tutored, was to make a point of being physically close to him whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"I don't know, Alex, didn't you say I shouldn't look too eager?" Sydney questioned.

"I'm not talking about draping yourself across his desk; you don't want to do anything unprofessional. But, let's say he needs a file you're working on. Happens all the time, right? Instead of tossing it at him—don't give me that look, Sydney. I've seen you do it. Instead of that, walk it over to his desk. And don't just lay it down in front of him and walk away. Stand slightly to one side of him and a bit behind him, so that you have to almost lean over him to put it on his desk. Trust me, it will leave an impression," she coached.

"So you're saying I should flirt with him?"

"It's the universal language of attraction. That near-kiss you told me about. You don't think that was flirting? Well, think again. He could have just told you where your keys were. Instead, he made a point of touching you."

"It's not that I don't trust you, Alex, but being the only woman ranger in Company B puts a certain kind of pressure on me. I can't be seen as, well, flirtatious or forward." This was going to be harder than Alex was making it out to be.

"Sydney, trust yourself. Trust your instincts. You will know just which lines to cross and which not to when the time comes. I know that you can pull this off, girlfriend, and probably without anybody other than Walker, Jimmy and me being the wiser."

"You don't think they already know anything, do you? Walker and Jimmy, I mean," Sydney said with great trepidation.

"You've worked with Walker long enough to have an idea of how well he reads people. What do you think?"

"Oh, great. And if he knows, then it's a sure bet Jimmy does, too. Fantastic."

Sydney spent the better part of Sunday evening practicing various makeup techniques until she found a method that made her look like a prettier version of herself and not what her grandfather used to refer to as a 'painted lady.' She had used makeup off and on in high school and occasionally had to lay it on with a putty knife for undercover work, but she'd never had a reason to want to simply 'enhance her natural beauty', as Alex put it. Until now.

Monday morning Sydney breezed into the Company B office with a light heart and a new outlook. It was a new and 'enhanced' Sydney Cooke that settled into her desk and waited for her partner to arrive.

Less than five minutes later, Gage and Trivette came in followed by Walker.

_Please, God, don't let me make an enormous fool of myself,_ she prayed silently as Gage headed to the coffee machine. Trivette and Walker went to their respective desks.

"Good morning, Syd. Can I get you some…uh…coffee?" Gage stammered, his train of thought veering dangerously off the track when he turned to look at her for the first time since coming into the room. He also lost all sense of where his coffee mug was in relation to the coffee pot in his other hand. Steaming hot java was about to hit his unsuspecting foot when Sydney sprang to the rescue.

"Sure! But I'd prefer it in my cup, thanks," she chided as she slid her cup under the spout just in time to prevent third degree burns. She also grabbed the handle of the pot and gently took control of it so as to prevent him from overfilling her mug.

Gage was only dimly aware that some sort of crisis had been averted. He could smell coffee, so he'd probably nearly spilled some, but he couldn't think how right at the moment. In fact, he couldn't think anything at the moment, except _'Wow!'_

Sydney was stunning. It was as if she had been transformed into an airbrushed, magazine-cover version of herself. Yet if someone had asked him exactly what was different, he couldn't have named a single thing. She was Syd, only _more_.

Her flawless skin seemed to be lit from within; she was almost glowing. Chocolate brown eyes looked out from under smoke colored eyelids, beckoning him to come drown in their depths. Her lips looked full and soft and wet. He ached to taste their cherry goodness.

_Oh, Syd, you're killing me._

Now, the blouse he _knew_ he had never seen before. Electric blue silk with little cap sleeves, it was tailored so that it showed off every one of her feminine curves to perfection. Her black jeans did the same thing for her posterior. And she looked _comfortable_. Not just good-fit comfortable, but wear-it-all-day-while-kicking-bad-guy-butt comfortable. It was all he could do to keep from reaching out and running his fingers over the shiny, smooth fabric of her top. Oh, yeah, he would definitely have remembered that outfit.

"New shirt?" he finally managed to squeak out. He cleared his throat loudly and attempted to take a gulp of coffee only to discover that his cup was still empty. He could have sworn he'd poured a cup just a minute ago. Then again, a minute ago he would have sworn that his partner was a beautiful human being, not the heavenly creature standing before him now. Apparently, the universe had somehow been rearranged while he slept.

Then, she smiled at him and the whole world faded out of existence, except for him, her and, oddly enough, the coffee pot she was holding. She raised her expertly manicured eyebrows in a questioning glance. He must have managed to nod, because he watched her pour coffee into his cup and replace the pot on the coffee machine's burner.

"You got that?" the angel with Sydney's face asked, nodding toward his cup. "You look a little shaky. Is everything OK?"

As if someone had thrown an invisible switch, reality rushed back in to Gage's consciousness with such force that his knees buckled. Luckily, his chair was right behind him. He sat down, hard, and by some miracle didn't slop coffee everywhere when he sat the cup on his desk.

"Yeah, I'm good," he lied.

"To answer your question, yes, this is a new shirt," Sydney went on nonchalantly. "Alex and I went shopping yesterday. She actually picked this out. I don't usually go for colors this bright, but she said this was a good shade for me. I liked it because it was comfortable. Kind of feels like silk pajamas."

_Holy hell, woman! The last thing I need right now is a vision of you in silk pajamas!_

Too late.

He had to get out of there—now—before his mutinous body caused him no end of embarrassment.

"She was absolutely right. Great color. Uh, Syd, can you excuse me for a minute?" He didn't wait for an answer. He swiveled his chair away from her, stood up and walked, rather stiffly, to the door, pulled it open and headed down the hall to the men's room.

He had to splash three handfuls of cold water on his face before he felt his arousal begin to subside. In the mirror, he watched the water drip off the end of his nose. Gripping the edges of the sink with both hands, he concentrated on the drops, following each one as it slid off his face and landed with the slightest _plop_ on the white porcelain below, like a Chinese water torture in reverse. Slowly, something resembling rational thought began to seep back into his brain.

Once the synapses were all snapping again, his first thought was, _I cannot let this happen, not again. I can't and I won't._

He took no small comfort in the fact that he and Callie had agreed last night to put their plan into action. She had called him from the hotel in San Antonio to tell him that Trent had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to go along with it. If this morning was any indication, however, he figured the scheme had a snowball's chance in hell of succeeding. Still, he was resolved to try anyway.

He threw his shoulders back and told himself he _could_ do this. He was a Texas Ranger; he could do damn near anything.

Before venturing out of the bathroom, he braced himself for seeing Sydney again. He tried to tell himself that his initial reaction had been purely physical; it was just hormones gone wild at the sight of her in her new clothes and that glowing complexion. All he had to do was spend enough time with Callie and he'd get over it.

_Sure you will,_ the little voice taunted.

"Shut up! I'm not listening to you!" he shouted angrily at his reflection.

Somewhere in the deepest part of his heart, he was sure he heard the little voice laugh.

Sydney couldn't help but congratulate herself on the effectiveness of her little experiment. He'd been so unnerved by her new look that he had to leave the room! Not that she wanted that to happen again; they did have to be able to work together, after all. They'd never get anything done with him excusing himself every other minute. Still, for her first attempt, it was a shining victory.

When Gage came back, he sat down at his desk and started going through the stack of pink phone message slips that had piled up while he was spending day and night at the hospital with Julie. He seemed to be making a determined effort to _not_ look in her direction. So much for her shining victory.

"How's Julie doing? Is she still staying with you?" Sydney asked trying to draw him out of the shell he seemed to have shrunk into.

"She's doing great, actually," he replied, sparing her a sidelong glance. "I took her back to her place yesterday. She'd been kind of dreading going into the apartment, because of all the damage Ronson and his buddies did when they were looking for her files, but when we got there the place looked good as new. She found a note from her editor at the Pottsboro paper that said her coworkers had come and fixed it back up. They didn't want her to come home to a huge mess."

"That was really sweet," Sydney commented.

"Yeah, they even brought fresh flowers and left a bunch of casseroles and stuff in the freezer. She won't have to cook for a week."

"I bet that made you feel better, too, huh? Knowing that she has people close by who can help out if she needs it."

"Not that she'll ask for help, because she probably won't, but yes, I will worry a little less than I would have otherwise."

Gage reached for his phone and Sydney frantically searched her mind for another question to ask. Now that she had him talking, he seemed more relaxed around her, more his old self. She wanted to keep the conversation going.

"Can she still write the story she was working on or will she have to hold off until after the trial?" Sydney asked, genuinely curious about Julie's work, but also glad to keep him talking.

"She's been writing it since she woke up in the hospital, but of course the DA is hoping she won't publish it until after the trail. In the past, Julie's always been gung ho about the public's right to know being more important than making the prosecution's job easier. Now, as both a victim and a witness, she's got a whole new perspective on that debate. Anyway, she wanted me to talk to Alex about it and see if she had any ideas for how she should handle it. So, is it OK if I make a phone call now?" His grin told her that he was on to her.

"Who's stopping you?" she snapped back, but her smile took all the bite out of her sarcasm.

He shook his head and chuckled to himself as he dialed Alex's number.

Two hours later, Gage looked up from the report he was writing to find Sydney equally engrossed in paperwork. He needed to see one of her reports, but he'd be damned if he was going to walk over to her desk to get it. He still didn't trust himself to be that close to her, not while she was wearing that blouse.

"Hey, Syd, can you toss me the file on the jewelry store robbery?" he asked, expecting her to lob it across to him like she'd done a hundred times before.

He watched her look through the stack of folders and pull out the one he needed. Then, he sat in stunned silence as she got up, walked over to his desk, stood right beside him and leaned down to lay the file on his desk. As she moved forward, her right hand brushed the collar of his shirt and settled on his shoulder.

Her touch sent a hot lightning bolt of pleasure from his hair to his toes. He flinched involuntarily, turned his head and found himself looking directly into the jet-black curtain of her hair as it fell forward over her shoulder. Without meaning to, he breathed in the flowery scent of her shampoo and for a minute he was lost. He closed his eyes and drifted back to the day they found Julie…

_All he could see was Sydney silhouetted against the glow of the September sunset as she stood in the doorway of the barn, her face a mere shadow, her velvety black hair dancing on the breeze._

_He couldn't remember ever seeing anything more beautiful in his entire life._

"Is this the one you were looking for? Gage? Hey, wake up!" She nudged his arm with her hip, knocking his elbow off the desk and nearly toppling him out of his chair.

He caught himself and sat up straight again. Sydney moved back toward her desk.

"Whoa! No, hey, I'm OK. Sorry, I guess I zoned out there for a minute. That's what I get for doing paperwork non-stop for two hours," he said, blinking as though he'd just awakened from a two-hour nap instead of a ten-second reverie.

_Paperwork, my foot,_ Sydney thought to herself. This flirting thing was pretty heady stuff. As she sat back down in her chair, she made a mental note to do something extra special for Alex to thank her.

"Uh, yeah, Syd, this is exactly what I was looking for. Thanks," Gage answered belatedly.

"You want to take a break and get some lunch?" Sydney posed. Her casual tone masked her thrumming heartbeat. _Oh, please. Oh, please._

"Well, I—uh—" he stammered, trying to come up with a plausible reason he couldn't go to lunch with her. He could barely stand to be in the same room with her without falling apart. How would he make it through sitting at the same table sharing a meal? Hell, if he was alone with her in the elevator there was no telling what might happen, what he might tell her. If she so much as looked at him in that confined space, his tenuous hold on his libido would snap like a twig and he'd be all over her. And once he touched her, there'd be nothing to stop him from spilling his guts about his feelings, too. He couldn't just jump and run again. There had to be something he could say—anything—_Help?_

The phone on Gage's desk rang. He pounced on it like a hungry coyote on a slow rabbit.

"Hello? Uh, I mean, Texas Rangers Company B, Ranger Gage speaking."

Sydney watched Gage's expression go from mild panic to blessed relief as he listened to the caller.

"Hi, baby. How are you?…No, no, you're not interrupting. I was just thinking about going out for lunch."

Was she imagining it or had his voice suddenly dropped two octaves?

"That sounds fantastic. I can't wait…Hey, I missed you," he crooned.

OK, she was definitely not imagining it. What was up with the Barry White impersonation? Missed? The only person he _had_ to miss was Julie and he sure as hell wouldn't be talking to her like _that_.

"OK, I'll see you at Tony's at twelve thirty. Love you, too, babe. Bye."

Babe? Love you, too? What the - ?

From the dim reaches of her mind, a memory gelled. Tony's was a pizza place near the hospital where Julie had been. Who did Gage know who might want to meet him near the—_Oh, no! Oh, God, no!_


	15. Chapter 15

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 15

Seated in his rented gray sedan, Tommy Finch watched from across the shopping center parking lot as the tall Texas Ranger and the pretty blond woman climbed into the Ranger's blue and white pickup truck. As the truck pulled out of the parking lot, Finch noted the particulars of the couple's activities in his PDA.

_Saturday, October 10, 2:37 p.m. Exited Magnolia Theater._

His boss would want details and he had them, three weeks worth of surveillance all carefully cataloged by date, time and location, complete with photos. His work was nearly done. All that was left was to make his final report to his boss.

Back in his motel room, he opened his laptop computer on the bed in front of him, inserted the wireless adapter and hit the power button. The machine whirred to life. After downloading the information stored in the PDA, Finch accessed his email, opened a new message, addressed it to SHARK4U and typed three lines.

_Precious cargo identified. See attached file and photos. Payment expected as per previous arrangement._

He signed it LIONEYES and hit 'Send'.

Less than two hours later, Tommy Finch boarded a plane for Detroit, Michigan. The snowstorms predicted to strike the Midwest had not materialized. His flight was scheduled to land on time. Hallelujah. Maybe he would get to see Tommy Junior's debut as a high school quarterback after all.

-----

The downtown Fort Worth law offices of Markham, Witt and Beale were empty except for the lone figure seated in the cubicle farthest from the front windows. Ginny McQuinn hated to risk turning on a lamp, but the glow from the computer screen wasn't bright enough to illuminate the keyboard and she had to be able to see what she was typing. She only had five minutes to relay the message and return to her vacuuming before the security guard made his next pass through the far cubicles.

With her heart in her throat, she snapped on the tiny desk lamp. She glanced around before unfolding the paper with the email password written on it. Her trembling fingers tapped the appropriate keys. A few seconds later, the message from LIONEYES to SHARK4U was winging its way through cyberspace to yet another in a long line of inboxes through which it would pass before getting to its final destination. But Ginny didn't know anything about the electronic goose chase she was helping to create.

All she knew was what the voice on the phone had said last night. If she broke into Mr. Markham's private email and forwarded this one message, her debt to the most dangerous man she had ever met would be paid. Who the caller was or how he knew the necessary password to access Markham's account, she didn't know or care. Perhaps he was even someone like her, someone just following orders so that his secrets wouldn't be revealed. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that now her past would stay buried. Her children would be safe.

A few more keystrokes deleted the incoming email. She turned out the lamp, powered off the computer and wiped her fingerprints off the keys with the rag from her back pocket. She was halfway up the aisle with her vacuum cleaner before the security guard reappeared.

"Evening, Bill," she nodded, silently praying that if he noticed the line of sweat running down her back he would chalk it up to hard work and not abject terror.

His usual reticent self, Bill only nodded in return, making no comment whatsoever as Ginny finished vacuuming the aisle.

-----

Gage stood next to Callie in the center of the festively decorated main room of C.D.'s Bar and Grill mulling over the sad state of his life.

Without a doubt, this was the dumbest idea he had ever had. What on earth possessed him to even suggest this ruse, this farce, let alone actually carry it out? It had been all his idea, too. Gage had no one to blame for this mess but himself.

He even had to talk Callie into it. OK, he didn't exactly have to twist her arm, but she had raised some valid objections, which he selfishly shot down in his desperate attempt to avoid a real romantic relationship with Sydney by hiding behind a pretend one with Callie.

Four weeks into the endeavor and he had become the poster child for the old adage, 'Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.' He had wanted to keep things purely professional between him and Sydney and that's exactly what they were now—strictly business. He was nothing short of miserable.

At first, everything was smooth sailing. Even introducing Callie as his girlfriend had been easier than he expected it to be. Walker and Jimmy had taken the news in stride, welcoming Callie into their circle of friends. Initially, Alex was more reserved, but after a while she seemed to be happy for him.

Sydney's reaction had been polite disinterest; she acted like it really wasn't any of her business. She was never rude to Callie on the rare occasions when they were all together, but she also never went out of her way to be chummy.

His dates with Callie were usually fun. He enjoyed her company. They went out two or three times a week and spent one weekend camping and fishing on Lake Ray Hubbard—in separate tents. Once in a while, he'd drop by the fire station and hang out with Callie and Trent and the other EMTs for a while. Now and then, Trent would join them for lunch or dinner in the spirit of maintaining the illusion of his and Callie's work-only relationship.

The first time or two were awkward, but once Gage made it clear he harbored no lust for Callie whatsoever, he and Trent had grown to like one another. The two men shared several common interests, chief among them being motorcycles and football, with minor affinities for basketball, professional wrestling and hockey, in that order.

Some of their dates, however, were not so great. Gage felt downright weird about knowing that as soon as he left, Callie was going directly to some secluded spot for a rendezvous with Trent. It dawned on him recently that he now knew how the shrimp cocktail felt about the surf and turf—and it wasn't pretty. Playing the appetizer to Trent's entrée had begun to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Last night he had asked that a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy be applied to those occasions. Callie happily agreed.

The worst thing of all was the way Sydney treated him off the job. She had all but vanished from his life. They hadn't done anything together, even as friends, since Gage had started seeing Callie. He'd asked Sydney a few times during the first couple of weeks to go to a movie or to have lunch with him. He wanted to at least hold on to the friendship they'd built since the El Leon days. Sydney always turned him down. It appeared she no longer needed that connection; she had moved on. Eventually, he stopped asking.

Oddly enough, their working relationship was as solid as ever. Rangers Cooke and Gage were still the Dynamic Duo of Company B, setting up stings and locking up bad guys with incredible efficiency. As long as they were focused on work, it was as if Callie didn't exist. They could still anticipate each other's moves, read each other's thoughts. But Gage had begun to dread the end of each shift, when the energy that flowed so naturally between them, through them, all day long was abruptly short circuited as he and Sydney went their separate ways, leaving him feeling empty and dark inside.

God, how he missed her!

-----

Sydney stood next to the jukebox, nursing her first bottle of beer and trying not to look as depressed as she felt.

She was exhausted. Maintaining her façade of nonchalance about Gage and Callie's relationship took every ounce of effort she could summon. She didn't know how much longer she could go on like this. If it weren't for the rush she still got from working cases with him, she'd have asked for a transfer to Austin or San Antonio weeks ago.

Well, that and Alex's insistence that keeping her distance was the key to winning him back. Sydney remembered the old line about "If you love something, set it free" too, but she was beginning to wonder if it was ever really meant to apply to men.

She didn't see Gage and Callie together all that often—thank God—but it got harder and harder every time it happened. It wasn't even that she didn't like Callie; she did. If a certain green-eyed monster would just quit rearing its ugly head, Sydney would probably like to have Callie for a friend. She was intelligent, funny and kind. She worked hard to succeed in a predominantly male profession, something Sydney could certainly identify with. But the fact remained that Sydney was jealous, some days more than others.

Today was a bad day.

Callie's birthday, in fact, and the party Gage had organized was in full swing at C.D.'s.

"That longneck you're milking goes with your expression perfectly, but it's clashing with your little black dress," C.D. stated categorically. He had wandered over to drop a quarter or two in the jukebox.

"Do tell, C.D. I'm not familiar with the etiquette of accessorizing with adult beverages," Sydney bit back more forcefully than she intended.

"Oh, etiquette, schmetiquette. Listen here, little lady, I can tell when a person is trying to look one way on the outside because they really feel the complete opposite on the inside. Your outfit says 'champagne cocktail', but the look in your eyes is screaming 'tequila shooters.'"

Sydney just stared back at him, amazed at his apt description of the turmoil she was enduring.

"Which leads me to a question I've been wanting to ask you for while now."

"What's that, C.D.?"

"What the devil are you waiting for?" he demanded, his eyebrows scrunching together in a full-blown scowl of consternation.

"Huh?" Stung by her friend's attack, Sydney felt her cheeks go red.

"Don't give me that, missy," C.D. shot back. "You love that boy. What's more, I've never seen you back down from a fight. So I ask you again, what are you waiting for?"

"He's made his choice, C.D.," Sydney replied quietly.

"Horse hockey! I guess you haven't noticed that all night long he's been looking at you like a penniless kid on the wrong side of the candy store window. He may have made a choice, but believe you me tonight he's wishing he'd made a different one."

Sydney looked across the room at her partner. If he was pining away for her, he was sure hiding it well right now. He had his arm around Callie's shoulders and the two of them were laughing at a lively exchange between Trent, Julie and everybody's favorite nurse, Liz Matthews, who turned out to be Trent's aunt. Liz and Trent's mother, Mary, were sisters. It really was a small world, after all.

"Oh, yeah, C.D., he looks positively shattered," Sydney quipped before draining the rest of her beer in three long gulps and shoving the empty bottle at him. "I need another beer, barkeep. No, wait. On second thought, make that a champagne cocktail."

Discretion being the better part of valor, C.D. kept his mouth shut as he headed back to the bar, snatched another longneck out of the cooler, popped the top and marched it back to Sydney.

"Here," he said, thrusting the bottle at her. "This is a honky-tonk. We don't do champagne cocktails."

He met her glare with one of his own. He figured he had two options; cut her off, thereby saving her from herself; or let her indulge, find her a ride and laugh his head off knowing how she would suffer tomorrow. After allowing himself a smirk at her expense, he decided she was probably suffering enough already. He stalked off to tell the staff that as far as the dark-haired beauty in the little black dress was concerned the bar was closed.

Unable to get C.D.'s assertions about Gage regretting his choice out of her head, Sydney figured it couldn't hurt to pay a little more attention to Gage's behavior just this once. She'd been trying so hard for so long to hide her own feelings that she'd lost any perspective she might once have had on his.

She sipped her beer and pondered the situation. Was it possible that he missed the closeness they had shared as much as she did? If that was true, why had he stopped asking her to lunch? Or to go the movies when Callie worked late? What if Alex was wrong? What if absence didn't make the heart grow fonder? What if instead of coming back to her, Gage turned to Callie more and more to fill the empty place where Sydney used to be?

Even when Gage told her that he and Callie were officially a couple, he never said he didn't want to be friends with her. In fact, he'd been as friendly as ever, at first. But, because Alex insisted that she shouldn't settle for being his friend if she really wanted more, Sydney had consistently rebuffed him. And look where that had gotten her. Instead of throwing himself into her arms, Gage had stopped trying to be her friend—and kept right on dating Callie.

Just then, Sydney saw Trent emerge from the kitchen carrying a huge sheet cake, the entire surface covered with flaming candles.

How old _was_ Callie, anyway?

"Good thing half the fire company is here tonight," Alex whispered as she came to stand next to Sydney to get a better view of the birthday girl blowing out the candles.

"Now, Alex, be nice," Sydney chided her friend. "Catty doesn't look good on you."

"Yeah, right. Admit it, girlfriend, you were thinking the same thing."

"Well, sort of," Sydney said, covering her smile by taking a swig of her beer.

"By the way, you look great tonight and I'm not the only one who's noticed," Alex remarked conspiratorially.

"Oh, and who might you be referring to?" Sydney returned with mock innocence.

"Your partner, that's who. He nearly drooled all over himself when you walked in."

"Funny you should say that, because when I talked to him and wished his _girlfriend_ happy birthday, he seemed perfectly composed—and dry," Sydney shot back.

Whatever retort Alex might have made was cut off by a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday to You", which she and Sydney both joined in, albeit half-heartedly.

As the singing subsided, Sydney watched as Callie successfully blew out the candles. A cheer rose from the crowd. In proper boyfriend fashion, Gage leaned down to give Callie a kiss.

For a second Sydney considered looking away, but she decided that would be cowardly, so she kept her eyes on the couple as their lips joined. In the next instant, she wished she'd chickened out.

Callie threw her arms around Gage's neck and kissed him like he'd just sailed into port after a year at sea. Gage was obviously surprised by her ardent response, because it took a second or two for him to put his arms around her. Something about Gage's reaction struck Sydney as odd, but she was too shocked to think what it was.

Then he kissed her back. Sydney couldn't look anymore.

She wanted to run home, throw herself on her bed and cry her eyes out, but that would mean having to walk past the kissing couple to get to the door, so she settled for hiding in the bathroom instead. As she turned to walk toward the ladies room, she caught sight of Trent, who had been leaning on the bar during the song. Now, he was standing ramrod straight, riveted to the passionate display. His jaw was clenched as tightly as his fists and his eyes were staring daggers into Gage's back. Or was it Callie he was fuming at?

Puzzled by Trent's reaction, Sydney stopped when she felt Alex's hand on her arm.

"Now, I know this looks bad, but—" Alex started, but gave up when Sydney turned on her.

"I never should have listened to you! Not from the very beginning! Why couldn't I have left well enough alone? At least, I would still have my best friend!" Sydney cried as she bolted away, not toward the bathroom, but through the kitchen and out the back door into the alley.

A light rain had begun to fall and she ducked back under the small overhang that ran along the back of the building. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes and tried to banish the memory of that kiss.

"There's not enough tequila in this whole damn bar to accomplish that," she whispered tearfully into the night.


	16. Chapter 16

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 16

"Can I have a word with you—in private?" Gage asked Callie a tad too sweetly when she finally broke the kiss.

"Why of course, baby," she drawled seductively.

The crowd issued a collective, "Awww."

Gage knew they all thought he wanted to get Callie alone for more of what they had just witnessed, but he didn't give a damn right now what they thought. The only thing he wanted from her right now was an answer to one question.

"What the hell was _that_ all about?" he demanded as he shut the door of C.D.'s tiny office. Located across the entryway from the front door, the office had once been a storage closet. Other than the rest rooms, it afforded the only complete privacy in the bar.

"I don't know," Callie hedged, unable to meet his eyes. "I guess I just got carried away. I mean it's my birthday and you went to all this trouble…"

He reached out and nudged her chin up so he could see her eyes. They were brimming with tears.

"Hey, Cal—"

"Was it that bad? It kind of felt like you enjoyed it," she blurted out. Why did she sound so desperate?

"No, it wasn't bad, but I thought we agreed there were no sparks," he replied. "Has that changed for you?" Good God, he hoped not.

"Has it for you?" Again, she was almost pleading.

"Callie, believe me, if anything was going to create a spark, it would have been that kiss, but the truth is—it just didn't. I'm sorry."

"I don't suppose you'd want to try one more time, just to be sure?"

He shook his head. The tears she'd been holding back finally fell.

"Callie, is this about Trent? Did something happen between you two?"

"Yeah, you could say that," was all he heard before she yanked the door open and ran headlong into Trent, his hand raised ready to knock. She shoved past him before he could stop her and made a beeline for the ladies room, leaving behind a bewildered Gage and an outraged Trent.

"Well, that's two women you've sent running from the room so far tonight," Trent bit off. "Care to try for three?"

"Two? What are you talking about?" Gage had had about all the mystery he could take for one night.

"Your partner went flying out the kitchen door when she got a load of you and Callie in that major lip lock, but of course you didn't notice because you were too busy sticking your tongue down my partner's throat!" Trent raged.

Gage's first instinct was to argue that his tongue hadn't been anywhere near Callie's throat, but by then the part about his own partner's reaction had finally sunk in.

"Syd? You saw Syd go out the back?" Gage confirmed.

"Yeah. Hey, wait—"

Gage was already out of the office, maneuvering his way across the honky-tonk when he saw Sydney duck into the ladies room. He noticed that her hair and her clothes were dripping wet. When he heard the clap of thunder, he wondered for a second if it was part of the storm now raging outside or the sound of his world crumbling around him.

When Callie kissed him like a new bride instead of a one-month girlfriend, he'd been so stunned that he froze. Then the fact that he and Callie were surrounded by people who believed they were a couple had finally penetrated his brain and he figured he'd better look like he was enjoying himself. So he'd held her and kissed her back, all without feeling anything but annoyed—annoyed at her for escalating the public display of affection and at himself for initiating this whole charade in the first place.

But one part of his brain had apparently stayed in mental vapor lock, the part that had been keeping tabs on Sydney all night. How could he have been so stupid? From the minute she walked in, he had been painfully aware of her, and even more painfully aware that he couldn't be with her, no matter how much he wanted to. Where had all that gut-wrenching awareness been when he'd needed it?

_Playing charades,_ the little voice announced sarcastically.

Great. Just great.

-----

Sydney was almost afraid to look in the mirror. Between the rain and all the crying she'd done outside, she guessed her mascara must be on its way to her chin by now. When she finally did look at herself, she was pleasantly surprised to see that even though her hair could stand a good combing, she didn't look near as much like a drowned rat as she thought she would.

If she could manage to wipe off the smudged eye makeup, she might be able to salvage her face at least well enough to keep from scaring the other party guests while she made her way to the front door. She was about to turn the crank on the paper towel dispenser when she heard a woman's voice in one of the stalls behind her.

"Callie, are you sure? How late are you?"

Sydney identified the speaker as Trent's aunt, Liz.

"Late enough to make the EPT test react in less than a minute. I'm positive, Liz. I'm pregnant," Callie revealed through muffled sobs.

Sydney had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from wailing as Callie's words ripped at her heart. She was trembling all over. She had to get out of there, but she couldn't muster the strength to grasp the door handle, let alone pull it open.

"I know Gage would marry me; he's so caring. He would never let me go through this alone—"

Sydney couldn't hear another word. She flung the door open so hard it banged against the wall. Heading straight for the front door, she ran right past Gage, a look of utter confusion on his face. A few more steps and she was outside, oblivious to the rain. She fought a wave of nausea and then laughed out loud at the irony; Callie was pregnant and _she _wanted to throw up. She was still laughing when Gage caught her by the arm and spun her around.

"Syd, wait. Where are you go—my God, Syd, are you alright? You look like you're about to be sick," Gage observed, his voice filled with concern.

Maybe it was the tenderness in his eyes as he searched her face, waiting for her answer. Maybe it was the despair that filled her heart like wet cement. Maybe it was the flash of lightning that reflected the rage and bitterness tearing at her soul. She might never know what drove her forward into his arms there in the pouring rain, but something did.

As soon as his arms closed around her shoulders, she felt warmth, soothing and sweet, settle in her belly. It radiated out from her middle to her arms and her chest as she pressed her upper body against his sturdy frame. She needed his strength, craved it like an addict craves a fix. She shouldn't be here with him; she didn't have the right, but she couldn't let go, not if she wanted to keep breathing.

Gage felt her trembling. What could have upset her so terribly? Surely not just that pretend kiss. He wasn't _that_ good an actor. He tried to ease her away from him so he could look at her face, but she clung to him like a shipwreck victim clutching a life preserver.

"Syd, please, at least let me take you inside. If we stay out here, we'll both have pneumonia," he chided gently.

She loosened her hold on him a little, laying her hands on the rock hard plane of his chest. She only meant to assure him that she would be fine; he needn't worry about her. But the instant her eyes met his, she saw that Alex and C.D. had been right. He wanted her. This close, even she could see the desire shining in his eyes, clear as day.

Oh, God, he never should have touched her. Now he didn't want to stop touching her. Ever. He watched, fascinated, as a whole array of emotions played across her face. Hurt. Betrayal. Anger. No surprises there. But underneath the pain lay something else, something that shocked him. _Want._

How could that be? After everything he'd done, everything he'd put her through, she still loved him. And that's what it was. Love. He'd always known that Syd would never stop at lust. For her, it was all or nothing. And that scared him right down to his boots.

Sydney knew her mask had slipped. He'd seen right through her. Time seemed to stand still as she watched the truth sink in and take hold of him. A look of pure wonder came over his face. In that instant, and not one second before, Sydney realized if she let this moment go, it would be lost—_she_ would be lost, forever. It was now or never.

Sliding her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, she rose up on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his Adam's apple. She felt a shiver ripple through him as she sipped a raindrop from the hollow at the base of his throat.

"Oh, Syd, we can't—" he protested, weakly, even as his hands clenched her shoulders and lifted her to him.

"I know," she murmured as her gaze zeroed in on his mouth.

His resolve vaporized. He lowered his head.

"Oh, I give up," he mumbled as his lips came down over hers.

As his hard mouth took possession of her soft, warm lips, Gage didn't feel a single spark. He felt _thousands_ of them. Sparks, hell. These were fireworks—big, huge, rainbow-colored blazes of glory bursting to life behind his eyes. He slid his arms around her, crushing her to him as his lips feasted on her mouth, her eyelids, her neck.

She had one last coherent thought before diving head first into the riptide of sensations Gage was awakening with his hands and his mouth.

_It stopped raining._

Reason fled. Resistance followed hard on its heels. Gage was powerless, completely at the mercy of his need for her. His lips found hers again and his tongue ventured out, probing, coaxing. At last, she opened herself to him and he claimed her. She tasted sweeter than he could ever have imagined. The kiss grew deeper, more insistent. He wanted her so much he thought he'd die of it.

Sydney's heart swelled as big as Texas. For one insane instant, she feared her chest would split open and her love-drenched heart would spew forth like that overgrown tadpole from the movie "Alien." Her breasts ached for his touch. As he slid his hands down her back, around her waist and up her ribcage, she reached up and twined her arms around his neck, allowing him access, hoping he would accept the invitation.

He didn't, not right away. Frustration gnawed at her. She couldn't get close enough, kiss him deeply enough to ease the yearning that was eating her alive. She heard herself moan as his hands meandered up and down the back of her rain-ruined dress, finally coming to rest on her hips.

As he drew her body into intimate contact with his, the pleasure was almost unbearable. She could feel his arousal growing more obvious with every squeeze of his hands on her hips. Her mind fast-forwarded to the logical conclusion of their passionate encounter and that was her undoing.

In her vision, it wasn't her body she saw tangled with his; it was Callie's. It was Callie who had obviously already had the pleasure of his company in her bed. It was Callie who was carrying his child.

Sydney wrenched her body away from him, her breath coming in painful gulps. She forced herself to look at him, to see him for what he really was—a man who would have unprotected sex with one woman while still lusting after another. The truth was written all over his face. Had they not been on a public sidewalk, he would have had her right then and there, without sparing a single thought for his pregnant girlfriend.

"I can't do this," Sydney sobbed, her heart in shreds. "I thought I could, but—"

"You started this! What do you mean—you can't do this? You were 'doing it' better than it's ever been done until a few seconds ago!" he snapped, his voice gruff with unfulfilled desire. "What the hell happened?"

"Before or after I remembered you had a girlfriend? A pre—"

A loud cough cut off Sydney's accusation. She and Gage both turned toward the door to find Liz holding it open, glaring at the two of them.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt, Ranger Boy, but Callie would like to go home—now. Are you going to take her or shall I?" Liz offered. If looks could kill, Gage would already be wearing a toe tag.

Gage made the mistake of looking at Sydney. Her face was a study in guilt and self-reproach. He should be shot. He'd accused her of 'starting it,' but he was to blame. He was the one living the lie, and now she was beating herself up for something that he let happen. God help him, he actually _hoped_ it would happen when he came outside after her. He knew he had to go to Callie, but he couldn't leave Sydney standing there with her guts all over the sidewalk either.

"Syd—" he pleaded, turning to her. He wanted to reassure her, tell her it wasn't her fault; he was the one who let everything—_everything_—go too far, but he couldn't get the words out fast enough.

"Well, that answers my question," Liz bit off, stepping back inside and closing the door.

"No, Liz, wait!" Gage called out, heading for the door.

Sydney took that as her cue to escape. She spun on her heel and ran across the street to her Jeep. She yanked on the locked door, snapping off a fingernail in the process. She cursed roundly at the pain in her finger and the realization that her purse and keys were still inside on the bar. She couldn't go back in there, not now, maybe not ever.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of yellow as a taxi stopped at the end of the block. Whirling to her left, she raced to flag it down before it drove away.

Gage heard her heels clicking on the concrete as she ran. His heart lurched into his throat. He wanted so badly to go after her, but the little voice had other ideas.

_Let her go, _it said with uncharacteristic compassion. _Do what's best for her._

He looked back down the street in time to see her climb into the cab, slam the door shut and slump against the window. He stood there, unable to tear his eyes away from her retreating form, until the cab turned a corner three blocks away and disappeared. At last, he pulled the door to C.D.'s open and went inside.

As the cab drove away, splashing through the puddles left from the brief storm, Sydney leaned against the door, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. What had she done? What did she think was going to happen when she kissed him? Callie and the baby would just magically disappear? She and Gage would ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after? She was such an idiot! And the saddest thing of all was that now she actually knew how much she had lost, and so did he.


	17. Chapter 17

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 17

Julie wasn't exactly sure what breed the critter was yet, but a cat of some kind was definitely out of the bag. Maybe more than one cat, in fact, since at least two women at this party—Liz and, oddly enough, Alex—looked like they wanted to scratch her brother's eyes out. And that didn't count Trent who was all but glowing with barely contained fury. Briefly, her big-sister protectiveness warred with her reporter's instincts. Should she come to his rescue or stand back and see what happened next? In the end, that had always been an easy choice.

Liz and Trent appeared to be the most immediate threats, with Liz being the most worrisome. Her brother would never hit that little gray-haired spitfire, even to defend himself, and Julie was very familiar with both the woman's physical strength and iron will. Trent, on the other hand, would be fair game, if he were dumb enough to challenge a six-foot, 220-pound black belt who had just come through the front door looking like he had nothing left to lose.

Expecting Gage to head straight for Callie, who was sitting with Liz at a table near the kitchen, Julie was surprised when he turned toward the bar instead. She had to change direction abruptly to intercept him.

"Francis, hold up a minute," she said, laying a hand on his arm.

He stopped and looked at her with shattered eyes.

"What happened here today? You look like the walking wounded. And where is Sydney?" she queried, looking over his shoulder toward the front door.

"Syd left, went home, I suspect. As for your first question, I think 'emotional train wreck' just about covers it," he replied.

Julie had never seen him look so defeated. She couldn't help feeling sorry for him, even though she suspected that some of his heartache was of his own making—again.

"Let me guess. You are the engineer on at least one of those trains."

Gage touched the tip of his index finger to the tip of her nose.

"Ding-ding-ding. Give the lady a prize." He smiled mirthlessly.

"Well, my advice would be to gather Callie up and get the heck out of Dodge. Liz and Trent both appear to want your head on a platter and Alex and C.D. look like they would be happy to help them get it," she warned.

"Callie and I definitely need to talk, which we will do when I drive her home. I'm not worried about the rest of them; they can't do any more damage than I've already done to myself," he answered cryptically as he leaned against the bar.

Julie decided to tackle one mystery at a time. "How did Sydney get home when her Jeep is still here?" She had seen it parked across the street when Gage came through the front door.

"She took a cab."

Julie's eyebrows crinkled in confusion.

"She was in a hurry to get away—from me," he said, wincing at the painful memory. "She couldn't get into her Jeep; she must have left her purse under the bar. So she flagged a cab that stopped at the corner."

"Her keys and her purse are right here," C.D. piped up as he laid the items on the bar along with a delicate black shawl decorated with several hand-painted red roses.

"I don't know what made her run off without her things, but I bet you do, don't you, son?" C.D. drilled Gage with a pointed stare.

"Not now, C.D.," Gage shot back. Then, more respectfully, "I'll sit still for one of your lectures later. God knows I deserve it, but right now I just want to make sure Syd gets her Jeep back and then get Callie home."

The order of Gage's priorities wasn't lost on Julie.

"In that case, I'll take Sydney's Jeep back to her," C.D. volunteered. "I'll ask Alex to follow me in my truck. I'm sure _she_ will want to make sure _your partner_ is alright."

"Twist the knife all you want, C.D. I'm the last person on earth Syd wants to see right now. You can't make that hurt any worse than it already does. And, just so you know, _nobody_ cares more about my partner's feelings than I do, which is exactly why I'm leaving her alone."

Some of her brother's puzzling behavior was starting to make sense to Julie. She'd thought something was 'off' about his relationship with Callie from the first time he'd told her about it. What she had seen today confirmed her suspicions. Now, hearing what he'd just said about caring for his _partner_, she couldn't help but remember what happened with Lynne and how he'd sworn he would never let it happen again. Suddenly, she knew what she had to do to help her brother—and Sydney, too.

"Hey, C.D., how about if I take Sydney's Jeep back to her?" Julie offered, her helpful tone covering her ulterior motive. "I was going to catch a cab to the airport right after this anyway. That way, it won't put you or Alex out."

"Airport?" Gage posed.

"Oh, I didn't have a chance to tell you, did I? The national news services picked up my story on Ronson. I got three job offers from major papers in New York, Washington, D.C. and San Francisco. My first interview is in San Francisco tomorrow morning," she told him, her excitement obvious.

"Sis, that's fantastic!" he gushed, pulling her into a congratulatory hug. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Francis. I'll be back tomorrow night, so I'll let you know how it went, but in the meantime, let me do this favor for you, uh, for Sydney," she fumbled.

"Sure. C.D. can give you directions to Syd's place. It's not far, just over in Lower Greenville. I really appreciate this and so will Syd."

"What are big sisters for?" she quipped as she gathered up Sydney's belongings. Nodding in the direction of the table where Callie and Liz were sitting, she asked, "Think you can handle the hostiles without me?"

"I've got it covered, but thanks for asking," he replied, giving her one last squeeze before marching into the lion's den.

-----

"Gage will be here any minute, Callie. What are you going to tell him? Better yet, what are you going to tell Trent?" Liz whispered across the table to her distraught companion.

"I'm not going to tell Trent anything, and neither are you," Callie avowed vehemently.

"Callie—"

"I mean it, Liz. Trent has made it very clear that he doesn't want to start a family right now. He's up for promotion to assistant chief of Company 56. Do you know how rare it is for a full-time EMT to be chosen? Our secret cannot come out, not now!" she hissed under her breath as she watched Gage hug his sister good-bye.

"It would be better if you just told Trent now," Liz advised. "He loves you. He would want to know. Besides, Callie, you said yourself you're already two months along. The timing being what it is, even if Gage went along with you Trent will still know the truth."

Callie started to reply, but closed her mouth when Gage headed toward the table.

Liz fumed silently, fighting the urge to whop Callie, Trent and Gage upside their heads. This whole thing had been a hurricane looking for landfall from the very beginning.

While the pregnancy was certainly a surprise, Callie and Trent's love affair wasn't. Liz had known about the change in their relationship long before Callie confessed it to her in the ladies room. Of all the Donnelly men, Trent was her favorite. So, naturally, she took a special interest in him. It hadn't taken long for Liz to discern the reason behind all the steamy looks and 'accidental' touches that passed between Trent and his partner whenever she saw them together at the hospital, but she hadn't let on to either of them that she knew. She certainly had no intention of revealing their secret, so why not let them believe she was as much in the dark as everyone else?

Still, she didn't approve of all the cloak and dagger nonsense, which she blamed on the fire department's antiquated attitudes about on-the-job romances. However, she understood that two young people in love would do just about anything to be together. Which was why she had no trouble figuring out that Callie and Gage's relationship was about as real as the Easter Bunny.

She had asked Trent once if he might want to stick to fighting fire instead of playing with it. He had paled briefly, but her knowing wink allayed his fears and he had assured her that everything was under _control._ Taking that to mean 'birth control', she hadn't pursued the matter further.

Well, obviously, somebody had slipped up somehow, because now there was a baby on the way, an innocent child who didn't ask to be part of some misguided subterfuge.

What were they all thinking, playing around with each other's feelings like this? They should all be slapped. Well, not Sydney. From what Liz had seen and heard earlier, Sydney was not a player in their little drama, at least, not a willing one. Clearly, she'd been devastated by their deception. Yeah, the three of them had a lot to answer for.

-----

"Are you ready to go?" Gage asked Callie when he reached the table. He kept his eyes focused on Callie's face, making a conscious effort to ignore both the glare Liz was giving him and the invisible hate bombs Trent was lobbing at him from his position by the jukebox.

Callie nodded and stood up, a look of utter despair in her eyes. She'd had that same look when he confronted her about her overeager kiss. What the hell was her problem? Gage was in such a hurry to get to the bottom of all this that he nearly yanked Callie off her feet when he grabbed hold of her left hand and pulled her toward the door.

Gage saw Trent advancing from their right with blood in his eyes.

"Back off, Trent," he barked without breaking stride. "She's fine and I'll make sure she stays that way."

Trent caught Callie by her right arm, forcing a pause in the couple's hasty retreat.

Gage tensed; bracing for whatever Trent might throw at him. He felt more than saw Walker and Trivette take up supporting positions between the embattled trio and the door.

"Is that true, Callie? 'Cause you don't look fine to me," Trent seethed, pinning Gage with a look that could have melted a polar ice cap.

"Yes, Trent. I'm alright now. I just want to go home. I came here with Gage, so it's right that he should take me home. You understand, don't you?" Callie replied in a tone one would use to soothe a wounded animal.

Whether Trent was swayed by her calming voice or her reference to Southern etiquette, Gage had no idea, but he was glad when Trent released Callie's arm. Of all the things that could take this day from bad to worse, a bar fight topped the list. Gage was in enough trouble already; he didn't need broken furniture and broken noses on his conscience, too.

Callie gave Trent's hand a reassuring squeeze and told him she'd see him tomorrow. Then she and Gage continued uninterrupted across the room and out the door.

-----

Walker and Alex spent most of the forty-minute drive from C.D.'s to Walker's ranch in very uncomfortable silence. Finally, Walker couldn't hold his tongue anymore.

"Well, I hope you learned your lesson," he chastised.

Alex responded by crossing her arms over her chest and deepening her scowl, although Walker doubted that was possible.

"I can't believe you thought it was your business to meddle in Sydney and Gage's lives," he continued.

"I wasn't meddling," Alex mumbled.

"Well, what do you call it?"

"Sydney _asked _for my advice, I'll have you know. Who knew that Gage could stoop so low? I never would have told her to hold out for more than friendship if I had known the man was a snake," she explained through gritted teeth.

"Gage? A snake?" Walker couldn't imagine his big-hearted friend as anything of the kind.

"You saw that birthday kiss he gave Callie, right? Well, that was nothing—and I mean _noth-ing_—compared to the scorcher he laid on Sydney outside. Who does he think he is—"

"You saw what happened outside?" Walker shot back, cutting off her rant.

"Well, yes. I was concerned when she bolted out the door like that. Before I could go out after her, Gage was already outside. I glanced out the window just to make sure he found her and that's when I saw—what I saw."

Walker just smiled.

_Well,_ _Hallelujah,_ he thought to himself_._

"What are you grinning at?"

"Never you mind, Alex. And I want you to promise me you will keep your nose out of their business from now on. This isn't junior high and you're not 'Dear Abby'. Gage and Sydney—and Callie, for that matter—are all adults. We are going to trust them to work out their issues without any more of your advice, got it?"

"Oh, alright," Alex grumbled.

Walker turned the car into the long, tree-lined driveway that led to the 19th-century ranch house he called home. As the house came into view, a deep sense of peace settled over him, the same feeling he got every time he set foot on this ranch. He looked forward to the day when Alex would live here with him as his wife.

"But what if Sydney asks me—"

"She won't, believe me."

Walker had heard Sydney tell Alex she should never have listened to her in the first place. He made a mental note to let Sydney know that while Alex's heart was in the right place, her advice didn't always work out quite like she planned. Not that that would really be news to Syd.

Alex opened her mouth to say more, but Walker leaned across the seat and gave her something to do with her lips besides talk.

_Gage, my friend, you should be so lucky._


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on this one, folks. Writing has never been as much _work_ as it was on this chapter, but a lot of stuff hits the fan in this one and I had to get it right. Sadly, I don't expect the next chapter to be a whole lot easier. I swear that I write every single day, but when the Muse plays hooky, or the kids demand that I actually behave like they exist, I can't make a lot of headway. To those of you who read and review so faithfully, I appreciate you more than words can ever express.**

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 18

Callie stared out the window of Gage's truck, her expression as blank as the vast, gray sky. But like the deceptively peaceful atmosphere, Callie's outward calm hid a maelstrom of turmoil that had her insides whirling like a tornado.

She knew Gage was furious with her. He had hardly spoken to her since they'd left the bar. He had every right to be angry. God, she'd been so stupid! Worse than that, she'd been cruel, pulling that stunt right in front of Sydney—and Trent. If she was going to try to seduce Gage, she should have at least had sense enough to do it in private.

Not that there was anything sensible about her half-witted plan to get him into bed, just once, and then tell him the baby she was carrying was his. It was just plain crazy, in fact. Maybe she could plead temporary insanity.

She took a deep breath, ready to start begging his forgiveness, when she heard him clear his throat. She wasn't going to fight him for the first word, so she let out her deep breath and braced herself for his wrath.

"Uh, listen, thanks for handling Trent back there. If you hadn't said what you said…well, it would have gotten pretty messy. Everybody is mad enough at me. I don't need to add bloodshed and busting up C.D.'s to my list of stupid mistakes," Gage volunteered.

What? She had to be hearing things. Did he just take responsibility for tonight's fiasco? It sure sounded like it. No way was she letting that happen. No way, no how.

"_Your_ list of stupid mistakes?" she shot back, utterly incredulous. She turned to look at him. "Gage, none of this is your fault. I started it. Everything was fine until I kissed you…like that." She turned back to the window, too embarrassed by the memory of her scandalous behavior to maintain eye contact.

"Callie, I think we both know that things aren't fine. They haven't been fine for a while now. But you're right about one thing. Whatever motivated that kiss is the real problem. You said something happened between you and Trent. Did you two have a fight? Were you trying to make him jealous?" he posed.

Oh, if only it were that simple. "Oh, no, the depth of my depravity far surpasses merely using you to make him jealous."

"Well, what then? And, you are not depraved. You don't have it in you," he argued.

"Wanna bet? I was trying to seduce you, to get you to make love to me, just once, so that you'd think the baby I'm carrying is yours." She forced herself to say it quickly, so she could get the whole thing out in one awful mouthful.

Gage hit the brakes, hard. The truck did a little wiggle on the rain-slicked road before he regained control. Both he and Callie were breathing rapidly by the time he pulled onto the shoulder of the highway and threw the vehicle into 'park.' He was in shock; she was relieved they hadn't crashed.

"You're _pregnant_?" he squeaked, his eyes impossibly wide.

She nodded, still trying to get her pulse out of the red zone.

"Why—why me? What…were you…I mean, how—I don't get it," he stammered. "Are you nuts?"

-----

The skies opened up again the second Julie set her overnight bag onto Sydney's front porch, as if the act were some sort of cosmic signal to the rain gods to bring it on. She didn't know whether to take her timing as a good omen or a bad one. She had, after all, narrowly escaped a thorough soaking, which was good. But she had also unleashed a whole new storm; just like the one she was about to dump all over Sydney.

Silently praying that she wasn't doing more harm than good, Julie rang the doorbell before she noticed that there were no lights on in the house. More than a minute passed, still no sound, no lights. Realizing that Sydney might be trying to discourage a certain someone from visiting, Julie announced her presence.

"Sydney, it's Julie. I brought back the things you left at the bar, including your Jeep," she called loud enough to be heard through the heavy wooden door. She jingled the Jeep keys. No response.

"OK, I'll just lock your purse and your shawl in the Jeep and drop the keys in your mail slot. Be right back," she said, continuing her one-sided conversation. Just as she was starting to think that maybe she was talking to an empty house, the front porch light flashed on followed by the soft _snikt_ of the deadbolt turning.

The door opened only as far as the safety chain would allow.

"Hey, Sydney, it's just me," Julie assured her softly. "I promise he's not hiding behind me. As if I'd let him, the big jerk."

Julie's show of sympathy won Sydney over. She removed the safety chain and ushered Julie into the moonlit living room, closing the door behind her.

"Thank you for bringing me my things." She lifted the shawl from Julie's hand and held it reverently to her chest. "Especially this; it's irreplaceable. I would have hated to lose it."

"Sounds like there's a story behind that," Julie observed, glancing around the room as if in search of either a chair or a light switch.

"Oh, my gosh, where are my manners? Please, come in," Sydney offered sheepishly, motioning for Julie to follow her as she walked through the living room to the eat-in kitchen. "Would you like something to drink? I can make some tea."

When Sydney turned on the Tiffany-style stained glass light above the breakfast bar, Julie managed to stifle a gasp at her friend's appearance. However, she couldn't hide her astonished expression.

"Oh, no, is it that bad?" Sydney asked, self-consciously dabbing the corners of her red, puffy eyes with the crumpled Kleenex clutched in her hand. Running a hand through her wet hair, she explained, "I took a shower when I got home, but I guess it didn't help much."

Julie had a sudden mental picture of Sydney frantically scrubbing her body, as if by doing that she could wash the painful memories of this dreadful evening out of her mind as well. She wondered if her skin was raw beneath her long-sleeved dark blue t-shirt and gray sweat pants.

"No, honey, it's not bad at all," Julie fibbed.

If Sydney recognized the little white lie, she chose to ignore it while she went about filling a copper teakettle with water and setting it on the stove.

"Have a seat," she said, indicating the two wooden bar stools at the counter.

Julie sat on the one on the left, picking up the shawl Sydney had laid on the bar along with the purse and keys. Holding it out at arms length, Julie studied the triangular garment in the light. Made of black silk, it was plain on one side, with a hand-painted design on the other. Beginning at the bottom point, a leafy, green stem climbed up and then branched out into a whole bouquet of twelve bright red roses, each one as unique in detail as if nature had created it instead of an artist's brush.

"The shawl belonged to my grandmother," Sydney announced, as she dropped her keys into the purse and laid it on the bar. "My grandfather made it for her as a gift for their first anniversary. He gave her fifty-two anniversary gifts over the course of their marriage, but she always treasured this one the most," she said, gently touching the hem.

"She told him all she wanted for that first year was a dozen roses, one for each month of their marriage. When he gave her a wrapped box instead of a bouquet, she was disappointed, thinking he had either forgotten her request or just hadn't been listening to what she said."

"Not that any man has ever been accused of not listening to his wife," Julie stated with mock indignation.

"Of course not!" Sydney responded, pretending to be aghast at the mere suggestion of such a marital faux pas. A tiny smile nudged at the corners of her mouth just as the teakettle whistled.

She prepared two steaming cups of vanilla almond tea and set them on the bar, then rounded the bar and sat next to Julie as she continued the story.

"When she opened the package, her first thought was that he had at least gotten her something that was pretty as well as practical. But when she lifted it out of the box and saw the roses painted on the back, she knew he had listened to her after all."

"Your grandfather was very gifted. These look so real I can almost smell them," Julie said, handing the shawl to Sydney who carefully folded it, roses side out, and laid it next to her purse.

"My grandmother loved the roses, especially after he told her that unlike real flowers, these would bloom forever, just like his love for her."

"No wonder she treasured this for all those years. Your grandparents sound like very special people," Julie remarked.

"Yes, they were. I miss them both very much," Sydney agreed sadly as she sipped her tea.

Taking a drink from her own cup, Julie tried to think of a way to ease into the story she came to tell. She checked her watch, mentally calculated her travel time to the airport and decided she didn't have time to be subtle.

"Sydney, I have a confession to make," she started.

"Your brother didn't send you here to plead his case, did he?" Sydney shot back as all the color drained from her face.

"No, he didn't send me, and I'm not exactly pleading his case, but I did come here to tell you something I think you should know, something he might not tell you himself."

"Save your breath, Julie. Whatever feelings Gage and I have—uh—_had _for each other don't matter now," she snapped.

"Sure they don't. That's why you were sitting here in the dark bawling your eyes out when I got here," Julie challenged.

"OK, so I do still have feelings for him. But they don't matter, not after…what happened tonight," Sydney grumbled, wincing at the memory of Callie's confidence in Gage's devotion.

_I know Gage would marry me; he's so caring. He would never let me go through this alone._

Sydney fought back a fresh batch of tears.

"Well, it matters to Francis. You matter to him, Sydney, more than you know," Julie insisted.

"Really? Then explain why he's—_dating_ Callie." She almost used a foul word for 'making love to' in place of 'dating', but thought better of it. Julie might not appreciate the reference in connection with her little brother.

"Funny you should mention that. I have a theory and the more I think about it, the more I believe I'm right."

Sydney just looked at her expectantly.

"I think it's all a hoax and I think he's doing it because he's afraid of what he feels for you."

-----

Oh, good, Callie thought, the insanity defense might just work.

"I wish I were delusional; then none of this would be real. Oh, Gage, I am so sorry. I know it was wrong, but I panicked. This should never have happened," she apologized, still unable to look at him.

"What should never have happened, the baby or the seduction?" he queried with genuine interest. Callie realized he wasn't angry, just curious.

"Both."

"So, then, I'm guessing we're talking some kind of birth control failure here, right?"

Again, she nodded, which didn't really tell the whole story. She flashed back to the phone call she'd made to the pharmacy, practically accusing them of somehow altering her birth control pills.

"_No, Ms. Wright, your latest pack was the same as all the others," the pharmacist had told her._

"_Are you sure?" It had to be their mistake. It had to!_

"_Ms. Wright, the only prescription you've filled here other than your birth control pills was a round of antibiotics which was back on—let me see—oh, yes—August 20__th__. Other than that, we've dispensed eight identical 28-day packs, as per your doctor's instructions."_

That conversation triggered yet another memory of her doctor giving her some rather off-handed advice about antibiotics.

"_This medication can mess with the effectiveness of your birth control pills, so you'll need to take extra precautions."_

Of all the details to let fly out of her head, why did it have to be that one?

"I was taking some medication a while back that interfered with my birth control pills. My doctor warned me about it, but I never gave it a second thought. I wish now she'd tattooed it on my forehead," she confessed sullenly.

"That explains the baby. Now, why get me involved?"

"Because I was afraid to tell Trent. He's going to be so angry. He doesn't want kids, and now he's not going to want me, either." She tried to fight back the tears that threatened to spill over her eyelashes, but it was a losing battle.

"So, let me get this straight. You tried to seduce me, to convince me, and presumably Trent, that the baby is mine, so that Trent wouldn't leave you?" he posed, one eyebrow raised and one corner of his mouth ticking up in an almost-smile.

"I didn't say it was a brilliant plan. I told you I panicked. I didn't know what else to do!" she snapped.

Surely, now he would let her have the verbal lashing she so richly deserved. But he didn't berate her; he did something that made her feel so much worse. He reached across the seat, pulled her into his arms and hugged her.

"My God, Callie, what is wrong with us?" he ground out.

There he went, sharing the blame again.

She pushed away from him and looked him straight in the eye, although where she got the gumption to do that she had no idea.

"Have you been listening? I tried to trick you into marrying me and taking responsibility for another man's child. How does that translate into something being wrong with _you_?"

"You wouldn't have even thought of doing that if I hadn't talked you into this whole stupid farce in the first place. We're both a couple of first class cowards. Neither one of us has the guts to tell the people we love how we really feel."

She started to argue with him, but then realized he had hit the nail squarely on the head.

"I'm afraid to tell Trent I want to get married and have babies and you're scared to let yourself fall in love with Sydney," she stated.

"Too late, for both of us, apparently," he admitted with a rueful laugh. "I know why I'm being an idiot about Sydney, but why are you so afraid to tell Trent about the baby? Trent's a decent guy. Decent guys do the right thing."

"Not always. Not when they think they've been trapped into something they've said time and again that they don't want," she said dejectedly.

She had rehearsed a hundred different ways to break the news, but no matter how cleverly she made the announcement, in her mind, Trent's reaction was always the same. He was livid, and it scared her to death.

She tried time and again to picture him beaming with happiness at her news, but she just couldn't. Instead, she imagined his azure eyes turning dark as midnight and his voice booming in her ears, either angrily demanding to know how this could have happened, or outright accusing her of purposely getting pregnant to force him to bring their relationship out into the open and marry her. She heard him order her out of his life, her and the baby, sentencing her to years of struggle as a single mother who might become bitter from loneliness and come to hate the child who had cost her the only man she would ever love.

No! Oh, God, it wouldn't come to that! She wouldn't let it, not ever. How many times had her own mother blamed her for her father abandoning them? She could never lay such a terrible burden on an innocent child, her child. Never!

Gage touched her hand, gave it a little squeeze.

"I've heard the way he talks about settling down, like it's some kind of death sentence, but that's just guy talk," he said, trying to be encouraging.

Callie shook her head. "No, not for him, it isn't. I know him. He means every word of it."

"Listen, if you ever tell anyone I said this, I'll be laughed out of every sports bar, football stadium and auto parts store in the world. But the truth is men say stuff like that because—", he paused, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "We can't let you women know that we secretly long for the pitter-patter of little feet as much as you do," he revealed, breaking into a mile-wide grin.

This was the blue-eyed boy she'd been so taken with all those years ago, the chivalrous young knight who defied his male companions and welcomed her into their world. She'd fallen for him then, in her girlish way, and she was so grateful to him now, for being such a good friend to her, for refusing to abandon her even now, on what had to be one of the worst nights of his life.

"You can't imagine how much I wish he felt that way, but he just doesn't. He'll think I betrayed him; that I got pregnant on purpose to force him to marry me, but instead, he'll leave me. I just know it." She couldn't suppress the tears or the shudder that went through her as she thought about how her own father had left her mother—and her—before she was born.

"Leave you? Callie, the guy hyperventilates if he goes more than ten minutes without seeing you, touching you, talking to you, or talking about you. He's crazy about you."

"I know he loves me. I just don't believe he loves me enough to want to settle down and raise this baby with me."

"I think you're wrong, but I can see I'm wasting my breath. So, what are you going to do?"

"All I know right now is what I'm not going to do. I'm not telling Trent about the baby, at least not until I have some kind of plan for how we'll live if he does leave us."

"Callie, that's crazy."

"We've already established that I'm not the brightest bulb in the box. I want your word that you won't tell him…no matter what happens," she said as the initial threads of a plan began to stitch themselves together in her head.

"Callie—"

"I mean it. Promise me, or I'll leave town tonight and not tell a soul where I'm going," she avowed, her voice ringing with new-found purpose, her plan neatly sewn together already. Why hadn't she thought of this before?

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to leave anyway, whether I promise or not?"

She didn't answer him.

He glared at her impatiently. "OK, fine. I won't tell Trent anything, if you tell me where you're going."

"No way, 'cause you'll just follow me."

"What makes you think I won't do that anyway? I'm a Texas Ranger, you know. Finding people who don't want to be found is what I do."

It was amazing to her how once she'd decided to leave town the fog of uncertainty had lifted from her mind. She was thinking more quickly and clearly than she had in days. She was about to out-fox a Texas Ranger.

"Have you forgotten about Sydney?" she asked confidently.

-----

Sydney's jaw dropped, taking her expression from 'I'm waiting' to 'You are out of your ever-lovin' mind'.

Julie forged ahead. "I know you think I'm crazy, but hear me out. I've known Francis a lot longer than you and I'm telling you their relationship is as phony as a politician's smile. Francis doesn't date; he falls in love."

"Doesn't one thing usually lead to the other?"

"For some people, but not my brother. He's had exactly two girlfriends, real ones, in his entire life. Both times were like lightning strikes. 'Hi, how are you?' one minute and 'I love you' the next.

"The first was in high school, a girl named Marilyn. He was crazy about her, but her family was rich and they didn't approve of her dating a foster kid from the wrong side of the tracks. They managed to see each other anyway up until she went back east to college. Neither one of them wanted a long distance relationship, so they said their good-byes and that was pretty much it."

"Not that I'm buying your theory—yet—but what about Girlfriend Number Two?" Sydney queried.

"Well, it wasn't until years later that he met her—at the police academy in Houston," Julie said, cringing as she hurriedly rattled off the last part.

"Wait, there for a second I thought you said he met his girlfriend at the police academy in Houston." Sydney actually laughed.

"Yup. That's what I said," Julie confirmed, without so much as a chuckle.

"Was she—?"

"A cop? Oh, yeah, one of Houston's finest." Julie's assessment was drenched in sarcasm.

"Now whose family doesn't approve?"

"You're damn right I didn't, and with good reason, as it turned out."

"What happened?" Sydney inquired.

"I think it would be better if Francis gave you the details, if you decide you want to hear them, but what you need to know is that she wasn't just any cop, Sydney. She was his partner."

The last word exploded into Sydney's brain like the bombshell that it was. The room did a funny little tilt. She thought she might slide off the bar stool, so she gripped the edge of the counter and laid her head down on the bar. A few seconds later, she heard cabinet doors repeatedly opening and closing. She looked up to find Julie rummaging through her kitchen cabinets.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something stronger than milk and sugar to put in your tea," came the answer.

"Far left, next to the fridge, top shelf. And bring two shot glasses. I refuse to ruin Patron Silver Label by putting it in a lousy cup of tea." Although why she cared one way or the other right now she couldn't say.

Julie fetched the bottle and glasses and stood across the bar from Sydney as she poured two generous shots of tequila. Neither woman offered a toast. Sydney grabbed one of the glasses and tossed back the contents. She waited while its liquid warmth spread through her chest like a balm to her bruised and battered heart. Nodding toward the second glass, she cast a questioning glance at Julie.

"Nope. They're both for you."

As Sydney picked up the second shot, C.D.'s words from earlier that evening came back to her.

_Your outfit says 'champagne cocktail', but the look in your eyes is screaming 'tequila shooters'._

"Right again, C.D. Here's to ya," she muttered as she downed the second drink. She hoped this one would calm the nasty little imp that was hammering her skull to pieces. Slamming the empty glass down on the bar, she barked at Julie, "Start talking."

"Like I said, Francis can tell you the whole story, but what's important is that she hurt him, Sydney. She betrayed him when he was at his most vulnerable. It nearly killed him, literally, and he swore he would never let anyone get close enough to hurt him like that again. It's why he's trying so hard to push you away; I'm sure of it."

It was probably the tequila, but Sydney wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"So, you're saying he's using Callie as some sort of shield to keep me from getting too close to him, because his former partner hurt him? You're saying he's _hiding_ behind Callie?" Sydney fumed.

_Coward._ It was the last word in the entire English language Sydney ever thought would apply to her partner. But what else do you call a man who uses one woman to ward off another, who doesn't have the decency, let alone the _cojones,_ to fight his own battles?

Suddenly she didn't know who she felt worse for, herself or Callie. As torn up as Sydney was, at least she wasn't pregnant by a man who thought of her as some sort of Kevlar for his heart. The more she thought about it, the madder she got.

Julie saw the anger flash in Sydney's eyes. Belatedly she questioned the wisdom of the tequila shots, wondering if she might have just poured gasoline on a bonfire.

"Sydney, please don't jump to too many conclusions here—" Julie implored.

"I didn't jump to anything. You're the one with the _theory._ My God, Julie, I never would have imagined that Gage could do something so gutless." Sydney didn't even try to keep the disgust out of her voice.

"You wouldn't say that if you knew how badly he was hurt. I'm not just talking about a bruised ego here, or even a broken heart. I wasn't exaggerating when I said it nearly killed him." Julie retorted.

Sydney fixed narrowed eyes on the other woman. "What exactly are you saying?" she queried.

Silence stretched between the two women for several seconds while Julie debated with herself about how much of the story to share.

"Did he ever tell you the story of that .22 slug that's on his key chain?" she finally offered, knowing full well he hadn't. As far as she knew, he'd never told it to another living soul.

"No. I asked him about it once, but he changed the subject. I figured he'd tell me sooner or—" She stopped. Two pieces of the puzzle suddenly clicked together forming a devastating picture. _That .22 slug...nearly killed him._

"Julie, are you saying he was shot?" Sydney's eyes couldn't have opened any wider.

"What I'm saying is that if he means anything to you at all, you'll give him a chance to explain, to apologize. If he's half the man I think he is, he will grovel at your feet and beg you to give him another chance, not because he's a coward, but because he knows how wrong he was to behave the way he did. And if you are half as smart as I think you are, you will, at the very least, listen to his humble apology with an open mind and an open heart. To do otherwise would be to turn your back on something rare, Sydney, as rare as those roses on your grandmother's shawl."

Sydney didn't miss Julie's not-so-subtle inference that what she and Gage felt for each other was as deep, as eternal as the love her grandparents shared. She had no idea how Julie had gleaned all that from the few times she'd seen her and her brother together, but the fact that she had made Sydney want to believe again in all the unspoken promises of one rain-soaked kiss.

Part of her couldn't help but believe. She could still feel every touch, every breath, every heartbeat she and Gage had shared. Those few precious moments were carved into her soul, never to be forgotten.

But another part of her longed to forget, to banish the memory of how _right_ it felt to be in his arms, because she could never be there again.

She was still trying to wrap her tequila-laden mind around everything Julie had told her, when the doorbell rang.

"That's going to be my taxi," Julie announced as she went to answer the door.

"When did you call a taxi?" She hadn't had _that_ much tequila.

"Before I left C.D.'s. I told them to meet me here in an hour. I'm catching the red-eye to San Francisco tonight," she replied over her shoulder.

Julie opened the door, told the driver she'd be with him in a minute and asked if he wouldn't mind putting the overnight bag she had left on the porch in the trunk for her. The young man smiled sweetly, said he'd be happy to, and carried the bag down the steps.

Sydney joined Julie on the porch.

"He's a good man," Julie said as she wrapped her friend in a warm hug.

Stepping back from their embrace, Sydney nodded. "I know."

Julie gave her a supportive smile and walked down the steps to the taxi, its rear passenger door open, waiting for her. Before sliding inside, she stopped and turned around.

"Listen to him, Sydney; that's all I ask," she implored.

"I will." Sydney could promise her that much at least, although at the moment she couldn't see what good it would do.

-----

_Damn!_

Gage most definitely had not forgotten about Sydney. Up until Callie dropped her bombshell, he'd spent the whole drive in his own mental purgatory, revisiting the heaven of her kisses and the hell of her rejection, over and over again.

Callie had set him up. He briefly considered that she'd concocted the whole thing, seduction and all, as part of some elaborate escape plan. But nobody could fake being _that_ scatter-brained. No, she'd been making this up as she went along, and doing a pretty darn good job so far. She knew he wouldn't follow her, not before he had dealt with Syd.

"I haven't forgotten about her, and you damn well know it. Fine, I promise not to tell Trent about the baby, but you have to give me something in return. Who are you going to tell where you're going?"

"Liz."

_Double damn!_

Nobody, Texas Ranger or not, would ever get that tough old broad to talk. Well, at least Callie's secret would be safe with Liz. He only hoped that meant Callie would be safe, too.

"Two more promises, or all bets are off," Gage insisted, "First, you have to promise that if you get into trouble, or you need anything, you'll call either me or Trent. Second, your travel pass is good for two weeks, tops. That's enough time to get your act together, bring it back here and tell Trent everything. Deal?" He stuck his hand out, waiting.

She clasped his hand in hers and gave it a firm pump. "Deal."

And because turnabout is fair play, before she released his hand, she looked him in the eye and demanded, "Now, what are you going to do about Sydney?"

"Our day of reckoning is coming, hers and mine, but it won't be tonight. As much as I would love to race over to her house and throw my stupid self on her mercy, I just can't face her yet. She thinks I'm some two-timing creep who conveniently forgot I had a girlfriend the minute my lips touched hers. I think we both need a little time to sort out the pieces before we try to pick them up, let alone put them back together," he declared.

The sound of thunder cracking across the sky made them both turn to look out the windshield just in time to see a lightning bolt cut a jagged path through the night and strike a hay baler sitting in a recently cut field several hundred yards from the highway. The two-ton machine jumped like a startled bullfrog, then settled back to earth with an enormous crash.

"I think that's our cue to get moving again," Gage said as he started the engine and pulled back out into the flow of traffic.

After a minute or two, he heard her gasp and watched her clamp her hand over her mouth, her eyes as big as saucers.

"Oh, my God!" she said as she slowly removed her hand and turned to stare at him. No, not really at him, more like past him, like she was looking at something horrific and wishing she could look away. "The ladies room door slamming! The boom from that lightning strike reminded me of it. Oh, no! She must have heard me telling Liz…Oh, no!" she wailed.

"Who heard you? Telling Liz what?" he quizzed her. Then the light bulb snapped on. "Do you mean Syd? She heard you tell Liz what? That you're pregnant?" He was all but shouting the last question.

Callie nodded, her eyes finally focusing on his, tears streaming down her face.

_Damn it! Damn it all to hell!_

"It's worse than that," she went on. "I told Liz I was sure you would marry me—you wouldn't let me go through this alone. Then the door banged open. Oh, God, Gage, I'm so sorry. I didn't know she was there. What she must think—" She let the thought trail off as she watched his jaw muscles flinching wildly, like he was fighting the urge to scream.

This time he managed to stop the truck without swerving first. He couldn't believe this was happening. His mind whirled back to when Sydney had torn herself away from him there on the sidewalk. The guilt in her eyes he had understood. But the disgust, the revulsion had been a mystery. Until now.

"She thinks I knew. Sweet Jesus, she thinks I kissed her like that knowing that you were pregnant with my kid." Agony rolled over him in waves the size of tsunamis. His last wisp of hope evaporated; she'd never forgive him now. He laid his head on the steering wheel and let the tears come.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note: Sorry for the long wait, everyone. I hope this triple-sized chapter (10,000 words compared to the usual 3,000) makes up for the delay at least a little. If Chapter 20 isn't up by the time you read this, it will be very shortly. Thank you once again to all who read and/or review. You bring me a joy I can no longer live without. Enjoy.**

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 19

Gage spent all night planning his apology. Actually, he spent all night pacing his living room like a caged animal unable to think about anything but how to get back into Sydney's good graces. After formulating and then rejecting dozens of ideas, he hit upon something he was sure would work—the simple, unvarnished, humiliating truth.

Even if she didn't forgive him, at the very least she deserved to hear the whole ugly story. Now he had to hope that she'd let him in the door. Not that he could blame her for shutting him out completely, out of her house and her heart. He had caused her no end of hurt for weeks. The fact that he was ready _now_ to dedicate his life to eradicating that pain might still seem to her like too little too late.

He thought about calling her first and asking if he could come over, but on the theory that it's easier to get forgiveness than permission, he opted to drive over to her house at first light.

Sitting in his truck in front of her house, he listened to the radio while he waited a little longer to make his move. While he doubted she had slept any better than he did, he still didn't need to upset her by ringing her doorbell this early on a Sunday morning. He was still working up his nerve to face her when he heard the radio station DJ announce the song he was going to play after the next commercial break.

He recognized it as one of his favorites, "Ain't Nothin' About You", by Brooks and Dunn. As he recalled the lyrics, he thought maybe his luck had finally changed. If this didn't get him in the front door, nothing would.

Throwing all caution to the wind, he grabbed his phone and hit the speed dial, praying she'd answer before the end of the commercial.

"Hi."

It was just one syllable, yet it filled him with hope. She knew who it was; she could have let it ring, but she answered.

"Hi," he returned, so relieved that she deigned to speak to him that he nearly forgot why he'd called in the first place. "Uh, by any chance, are you listening to the radio right now?"

That wasn't how Sydney had imagined their next conversation would begin, but the topic seemed safe enough, so she answered him.

"Yeah, it's playing in the bedroom. Why?"

"What station?"

"The one you got me hooked on during our first stakeout, The Wolf," she quipped, referring to Dallas' most popular country music station. Where was he going with this?

"Sydney, I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but in the name of our partnership, I am asking you to do one thing for me. Listen to the song that's just now coming on and know that it says all the things I should have said to you a long time ago, but I was too scared or too stupid to say them. Will you do that? Please?" The first notes of the song began to play as he waited for her answer.

"OK, I'll listen," she replied. Apparently, he was going to let a song do some of his apologizing for him. And she had promised Julie she would listen with an open mind and an open heart.

"Great," he said and hung up so she could really listen without him breathing in her ear.

Sydney turned up the volume on the clock radio on the nightstand and listened as Kix Brooks and Ronnie Dunn sang.

_Once I thought that love was something I could never do. _

_Never knew that I could feel this much. _

_But this yearning in the deep part of my heart for you _

_Is more than a reaction to your touch._

It's a perfect passion

_And I can't get enough._

_The way you look, the way you laugh, the way you love with all you have._

_There ain't nothin' about you that don't do something for me._

_The way you kiss, the way you cry, the way you move when you walk by._

_There ain't nothin' about you that don't do something for me._

The tears came in the first verse. By the end of the first chorus, Sydney's knees had turned to jelly, forcing her to sit on the bed. She grabbed a pillow and held on for dear life as the song continued.

_In my life I've been hammered by some heavy blows_

_That never knocked me off my feet._

_All you've gotta do is smile at me and down I go._

And baby, it's no mystery

_Why I surrender._

_Girl, you've got everything._

_The way you look, the way you laugh, the way you love with all you have._

_There ain't nothin' about you that don't do something for me._

_The way you kiss, the way you cry, the way you move when you walk by,_

_There ain't nothin' about you that don't do something for me._

Her defenses were all but shattered by the second chorus. She'd spent all night carefully constructing a fortress around her heart so she could at least bear to be in the same room with him long enough to go to headquarters and request a transfer to another company. And in less than three minutes, without even setting foot in the house, he'd managed to tear it all down again. Damn.

_I love your attitude, your rose tattoo, your every thought,_

Your smile, your lips, and girl, the list goes on and on and on and on and on…

Gage panicked. A rose tattoo. Oh, hell, he'd forgotten about that. He'd never seen a tattoo of any kind on Sydney, rose or otherwise. Surely, she wouldn't hold that one small detail against him, right? Then again, he thought, he hadn't seen _all_ of Sydney. Hmmm.

_The way you look, the way you laugh, the way you love with all you have._

_There ain't nothin' about you that don't do something for me._

_The way you kiss, the way you cry, the way you move when you walk by,_

_There ain't nothin' about you that don't do something for me._

_Your dance, your drive, you make me feel alive._

_The way you talk, the way you tease, by now I think you see, _

_There ain't nothin' about you that don't do something for me._

As the last notes of the song faded into the opening strains of the station's next selection, Gage's phone rang.

"Hi."

"You're on my porch again, aren't you?" she asked, her voice quivering as she fought back another round of tears.

"No, but I could be as soon as I get out of my truck and walk up the steps."

"Get your butt in here."

She tried to sound stern, like she was giving an order, but it came out more like an invitation.

Gage wouldn't have cared if she had shouted them at him; he had never heard five more beautiful words in his life. He practically floated to the front door, which she was holding open by the time he got there.

Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She was barefooted with her hair pulled back into a sort of lopsided twist held in place by what looked like a shiny, black chopstick. She was wearing the rattiest light blue chenille bathrobe he had ever seen over a white tank top and gray sweat pants.

To Gage, she was positively stunning. The urge to take her in his arms and kiss the breath out of her was overwhelming. He ached to pull that chopstick out of her hair and run his hands through the velvety strands. But he didn't touch her. He couldn't risk the progress he'd made so far. Just standing in her living room was more than he deserved.

-----

Trent woke up Sunday morning in a strange bed with no memory of how he got there. He found himself lying on his stomach on what appeared to be a sofa bed, judging by the thinness of the mattress. The room was fairly small and smelled of fresh paint—mint green, with a white chair rail, from what he could see. Sunlight streamed in through two bare windows that looked out on nothing but a cloudless blue sky, telling him he was on the second floor of wherever he was.

He stretched his right arm out as far as he could reach, running his hand along the dark blue sheets until he was satisfied that he was alone in the bed. This came as an enormous relief as further exploration revealed he had slept in only what God gave him.

A loud knock on the closed door startled him, sending him bolt upright, a move he instantly regretted. Pain ripped through his skull like a buzz saw. His stomach flipped, threatening to give back its contents if he didn't lie down again. So he did, sprawling on his back.

"Trent? You decent?" Collin's voice called just before the man himself barged into the room and closed the door behind him.

"I feel a lot closer to dead than decent," Trent mumbled from under the pillow he'd used to cover his eyes. The room didn't spin as fast when it was dark. "Where am I exactly, and how did I get here?"

"Jenna likes to think of it as a nursery, but she's getting a little ahead of herself, or ahead of me, depending on how you look at it," the older man quipped.

"OK, that's the where. Now how about the how?"

"You really don't remember?" Collin lifted a corner of the pillow and was instantly met with a growl. He dropped the pillow.

"I didn't drive here, did I?" Trent asked with great trepidation.

"No, thank God. Although as polluted as you were, I don't know how you found your way here on foot in the dark," Collin answered.

"I walked? From Dallas?" No wonder his legs felt like lead weights.

"No, from your cabin here on the ranch, you drunken idiot. You do remember the cabin, don't you? It's that place you and Dad built on your piece of the D-Five, the one you don't live in and treat like a storage shed for some strange reason. How you got there is also a mystery, since I went looking for your truck but didn't find it. Not at the cabin, not anywhere on the D-Five." This time Collin ripped the pillow from his brother's hands. "What the hell happened last night?"

Something about the cabin struck a familiar note. Trent remembered sitting at the kitchen table looking at a stack of photographs, snapshots of his weekend with Callie in San Antonio.

_She looks so happy in these pictures, like a new bride on her honeymoon._

Wait. Someone else had said those words to him. Who was it?

He willed his mind to conjure the voice if not the face of the person who had looked at those pictures with him. Collin was the one asking the questions, so it probably wasn't him. Oh, God, please don't let it be Dad—or Sean. No, it was female and he was pretty sure she was family. Aunt Liz.

A long groan escaped from Trent's throat as visions of the previous evening came rushing back. He'd been on a mission to erase the memory of Callie kissing Gage like a long lost lover and he was by damn gonna do it even if it took all the whiskey in Dallas and Denton counties combined.

Liz, the crafty old dame, had played along, driving him to a couple of watering holes, each one closer to the ranch than the last. Finally, she got him to the cabin, but she must have left while he still had his boots on and enough life left in him to get out the door. How he'd made it the three miles down the lane and over the creek bridge in the dark without pitching himself headfirst into the creek was nothing short of miraculous.

However, his mission to drink away his troubles had been a dismal failure. Not only was he still in possession of the infuriating image of his woman plastering herself all over that muscle-bound ranger, but he also had the granddaddy of all hangovers and a brother who was asking too many questions.

"You didn't get this drunk at Callie's birthday party, did you? And who got you to the cabin anyway? Was it Callie? Why didn't you just pass out there instead of dragging your sorry butt to my door—at three A.M.? Jenna was scared out of her wits. You're lucky I didn't shoot you."

"Slow down, will you? Geez, you sound like…like—"

"Like who?"

"Like Sean, that's who. Cut me some slack, Middle Man, I thought you were the nice brother," Trent cajoled, using Collin's nickname, 'Middle Man'. He'd earned the moniker at age nine by negotiating his first truce between Trent and Sean without parental intervention.

"I _am_ cutting you some slack, _little_ man. If I were Sean, you'd be wearing a bucket of cold, dirty mop water by now."

Trent cringed at the memory of his oldest brother's indictment of his only other bout of drunken behavior—at least, the only one at the ranch—that occurred the night of his high school graduation. He could still feel the grit and taste the filth of that wakeup call.

"Well, did I say anything when I got here?" Trent asked. He tried to sound casual, but ever since he'd first spoken this morning, his voice had come out in a gravelly whisper and his throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper.

"No, you just cried and cried and kept hollering something about kicking some—and I quote—'low-down, back-stabbing Texas Ranger's ass'. I looked you over good, after you passed out and I got your distillery-scented clothes off. You didn't have a mark on you, so I assumed that the ass kicking you were referring to hadn't happened yet."

Another loud knock on the door had Trent clamping both hands to his head to keep it from ripping in half.

"Who is it?" the brothers called in unison.

"It's Jenna. I thought Trent might need some breakfast. The tray's heavy, Collin. Open the door," the lady of the house commanded.

Her husband hurried to do as she asked. She entered the room surrounded by the aromas of pancakes, sausage and strong coffee—and was nearly run over by a naked man bolting past her on his way to the bathroom.

Five minutes and one toilet flush later, Trent reappeared wrapped from waist to knees in a pink and white striped bath towel.

"Sorry 'bout that, beautiful. It was either streak and make it to the bathroom, or grab the sheet and puke all over the nursery," Trent confessed sheepishly as he sat back down on the bed. Jenna had mercifully sent the breakfast tray downstairs with Collin, who had to leave for work, but the lingering smells made Trent's stomach do one last flip.

"No, no, you made the right decision. You moved so fast, it was all a blur anyway. I'm sorry. It's been a long time since I've had to deal with the after effects of a night on the town. I guess I should have skipped breakfast."

"Apparently it's been a long time for me, too. It's OK. Your heart was in the right place."

"Speaking of hearts, Trent. How did yours get broken?" Jenna inquired quietly as she closed the door again in case Collin hadn't left yet. She didn't want him to hear her asking Trent about the things he'd said in his stupor last night.

"I notice you didn't ask me _who_ broke it," Trent observed, looking at her from under his raised eyebrows.

"No, that you made very clear last night, but Collin wasn't in the room at the time. I didn't tell him anything, so I guess you can use the 'I was raving drunk' defense to explain the rest of what he did hear, but eventually, honey, you know all of this is going to come out. Love has a way of insisting that it be recognized. Just look at Sean and Olivia."

Trent knew exactly what she meant. Sean being Sean, he put no stock whatsoever in romance. Even as far back as high school, when Olivia first fell in love with him, he was all business, focusing more on his responsibilities at the ranch and at school than on fun, or God forbid, girls. Then came the summer eight years ago when Olivia went to Ireland to stay with her father's relatives and document the Cleary family history. Suddenly, the pest of a girl who seemed to always be under foot wasn't—and boy, did Sean miss her.

"I remember he got downright surly that summer without her around to brighten his world. I don't think he even knew why he felt mean all the time, but luckily Mom knew and made us all chip in for a plane ticket to Dublin. Dragging him onto that flight was just about the most fun I ever had. He swore up and down we'd all regret spending the money on that ticket, but when they came back to Texas—two weeks later—they were engaged."

"And the rest, as they say, is history," Jenna chimed in.

"Which is just what I'll be if the rest of the family finds out about Callie and me—_history,_" Trent said, drawing an imaginary knife across his throat and letting his head flop to one side, eyes closed.

"So what are you going to do, let this Ranger Gage have her? Is she not worth more to you than that?" Jenna never did know how to pull a punch.

"That's just it, Jen. I want her to be happy, and lately she hasn't been happy with me, not since we spent that weekend in San Antonio. If she can make a life with Gage—a family, kids—then she should have that." Some part of him meant what he said, but he still hated hearing the words come out of his mouth.

"Why can't she have those things with you?"

"Jenna, you've been a member of this family long enough to know the answer to that question."

"Yes, I know, the sacred rule forbidding relationships within the same station," she bit off, rolling her eyes as she said it. "Is being Callie's work partner really that important to you? Or are you using that as an excuse to avoid making the kind of commitment you know she really wants?"

She might as well have punched him in the nose; he actually reeled backwards as her words hit home. He'd never thought past the policy. It was there, a fact of life, as indisputable as the sun rising in the east. He'd never considered that their relationship might become more important to either one of them than their careers. His focus had always been on keeping as much of Callie in his life as he could, both on the job and off.

_His focus, his life._

Oh, God, had he always been such a selfish jerk?

He fell backward onto the bed, wincing from the spike of pain that shot through his head.

"I can't believe I never thought about it that way. I never once thought to _ask_ her how she felt about staying partners, instead of _assuming_ she wanted the same thing I did. I asked her once if she regretted getting involved with me and she said she didn't, but that was the wrong question." Spurred by his sudden revelation, he stood up quickly and sat back down again just as fast. While he waited for his brains to stop swirling in his skull, he continued to pour his heart out to his sister-in-law.

"She never complained, Jenna, not once. But I knew she wished there could be more. And what did I do? I gave her one weekend, three lousy days, for us to be a 'normal' couple and we had to run all the way to San Antonio to do it. I knew she wanted forever for us, but she traded it away for a weekend and I let her, because I didn't want to rock the boat at work. I wouldn't blame her if she finally got tired of getting the short end of the stick and ran off with Gage," Trent confessed dejectedly.

He got up—slowly—to look out the window that faced the backyard. Beyond the fenced yard, he could see the copse of trees where his mother's headstone stood—spell-check perfect—facing the morning sun. The tiny cemetery where she and all the Donnellys that came before her were laid to rest was in the exact geographic center of the ranch.

'_Family has always been the heart of the D-Five,' Trent's father had said at her funeral. 'And she was the heart of this family.'_

Trent missed her terribly. Although his mother had never met Callie, Trent was sure she would have liked his partner. They were a lot alike. They were both kind and generous, with gentle, nurturing spirits. Caring for others came naturally to both women, as did putting others' needs before their own. Obviously, he'd failed to learn that lesson, from either one of them. Now that he thought about it, his mother would have kicked his butt clear up to his shoulders for the way he'd treated Callie.

A solid whack landed on his bicep, nearly knocking him into the window.

"Ow!" he howled, rubbing his arm.

"Snap out of it! The pity party is over." Jenna's sharp tone had him considering the possibility that she was channeling his mother right now. "Time to man up, buddy, and go get your girl back."

"That's almost exactly what Mom said when she sent Sean after Olivia," Trent responded as a chill ran up his spine.

Jenna just smiled. She hadn't listened to that story a thousand times for nothing.

"And I'm gonna get right on that, as soon as I find my clothes. That is, unless you'd like me to go gallivanting all over the countryside in my birthday suit," he said as he reached for the towel.

"No! Good Lord, no," she laughed, swatting his hand away as her cheeks turned pink. "Your clothes are in the dryer. They should be dry by now. I'll bring them up while you take a shower. Then I'll take you to wherever you left your truck."

"Thanks, Jenna, for everything, and I'm sorry if I scared you showing up in the middle of the night like that," Trent apologized sincerely.

"You're family, honey, no need to apologize. But I am curious. Why did you come here when you were already at the cabin?"

"It's still a little fuzzy, but I remember looking at some pictures from the weekend with Callie in San Antonio. I was showing them to Aunt Liz, who is the one who brought me home, by the way. Anyway, after she left, I just got to thinking how I've missed Callie so much this past month. I've been working all kinds of overtime and she's been dating Gage in an effort to keep suspicion off of us at the station. And then she kissed him like she really meant it …" He let the thought trail off, unwilling to revisit the moment any longer than absolutely necessary. Then he continued, "I just felt so alone and miserable."

"And since misery loves company…" Jenna prodded.

"Exactly. I decided to come calling on my favorite brother and his lovely wife."

"Well, I'm just glad you ended up here instead of floating face down in the creek," she responded warmly, patting his cheek.

"Me, too."

She turned to go downstairs, but stopped when he spoke again.

"Hey, Jenna, the nursery looks great. I like the colors. You and Collin are going to be great parents, hopefully sooner rather than later."

Her eyes glowed with emotion. "From your lips to God's ears," she managed before she hurried down the stairs so he wouldn't see her cry.

-----

"Did you request that song on purpose, or was that just serendipity?" Sydney inquired as she closed the front door and stood in front of him.

"Seren-what?" he posed, his brow wrinkling at the unfamiliar word.

"Serendipity. It's sort of like a happy accident, a favorable twist of fate."

"Oh. Uh, no, I didn't request the song, so I guess it was ser-en-dipity?" he replied, unsure if he'd pronounced it right.

Sydney tried not to smile as he struggled to master the new addition to his vocabulary, but she lost the battle and finally grinned up at him.

Her smile was a gift and he treasured it. He didn't know what to say, so he just stood there grinning back at her like the village idiot.

Part of Sydney wanted to kiss the smile right off his face, just reach up, lock her lips onto his and forget about everything except that song and what it said about all the things Gage felt for her. But another part of her knew that even if Gage could turn his back on his responsibility to Callie, she couldn't live with herself if she let her own happiness come before that of an innocent child.

She promised herself she would confront him about the baby, right after breakfast. What did he know and when did he know it? But for now, she wanted to just hold on to the warm, tender feelings the song had resurrected in her cold, crumbling heart. Was that so terrible?

His goofy grin reminded her of the last time he was in her house, when he'd happily wolfed down a bowl of Captain Crunch cereal.

"Are you hungry? I'm all out of Captain Crunch but I think I might have some Lucky Charms," she offered as she walked toward the kitchen.

He followed her, unable to keep his eyes off that chopstick in her hair.

"How does that thing work?" he wondered.

"What thing?" she returned as she rounded the breakfast bar and opened a cabinet over the sink to retrieve two cereal bowls.

"Huh?"

Turning to face him, she clarified, "You said, 'how does that thing work?' To which thing were you referring?" She set the bowls on the bar.

Had he said that out loud? Apparently.

"That chopstick in your hair," he answered as he sat on the left barstool.

"Oh. Well, I'm not sure exactly. I guess it somehow prevents the hair from unwrapping." To give him a closer look, she returned to his side of the bar, turned her back to him and pointed to the back of her head. "See?"

She was close enough for him to smell her shampoo and that sweet vanilla body wash he'd seen once in her bathroom. Temptation sank its jaws into him like a lion devouring a zebra. He was as helpless as a fresh kill. If she didn't move away or at least turn around in the next three seconds, he'd lose every inch of ground he'd gained this morning and then some.

One…two…

She spun around to face him just in time to catch him with his hand in mid-air, ready to pluck the chopstick from her hair. Her eyebrows shot up. His cheeks burned crimson and he scowled at his hand as if it had acted of its own free will. He quickly retracted the offending appendage and sat on it to prevent further mischief.

"Uh, I, uh—"

"It's OK, Gage. I can't believe I'm admitting this, but being close to you is hard for me, too. So, maybe I should just stay on my own side of the bar." She walked back into the kitchen, opened another cabinet and took out two boxes of cereal.

"So, what'll it be, sugary kids' stuff—" She shook the box of Lucky Charms. "Or reasonably healthy grown-up stuff?" She rattled the box of Multi-grain Cheerios.

"Both. The sugar from the Lucky Charms makes the healthy stuff taste better, but the Cheerios make the sugary stuff better for you," he said with a perfectly straight face.

Sydney just gaped at him.

"What?" It made perfect sense to him.

"Never mind," she said, smiling and shaking her head as she poured some cereal from each box into a bowl and handed it to him. She chalked it up as another example of 'Gage logic' and let it go at that. She poured her own cereal—Multigrain Cheerios, solo—and then fetched two spoons and the milk.

They ate in silence for several spoonfuls. Sydney realized she had spent the last fifteen minutes in his presence without wanting to cry or punch him in the mouth even once. Maybe they could just keep things like this—light, impersonal, _partners only. _Did they really have to open all the wounds she'd spent all night stitching up? Then he spoke and she wanted to cry all over again.

"Callie told me you overheard what she said in the ladies room last night," he said between mouthfuls, watching her from under his eyebrows.

He saw her face go pale and her eyes fill with tears. God help him, he didn't want to hurt her anymore than he already had, but there wasn't any way around this. She had to hear the truth before he could ever hope that she would forgive him. He wished she'd let him hold her; his body burned with the need. But it was too soon, so he just sat there and tried to explain as best he could.

"On the way home last night, Callie remembered the bathroom door slamming open right after she told Liz she was sure I would marry her. Considering everything else that happened following that, it made sense that you were the one in a hurry to get out of there. What you didn't hear was Callie saying that she couldn't ask me to do that because it isn't my baby."

"What?" she gasped.

"Callie's baby. It's not mine," Gage stated unequivocally.

"Is that what she told you?"

"She didn't have to. I've never slept with her."

Sydney's head was spinning. A host of conflicting images all crowded to the front of her mind at once: Callie kissing Gage with all the passion of an experienced lover; Gage's half-hearted reaction; Julie's assurance that his relationship with Callie wasn't real; and finally, the raw hunger she had seen in his eyes during their own heated embrace in the gentle autumn rain.

As confusing as it all was, one thing was for sure. The man had urges and he wasn't exactly shy about indulging them, at least he hadn't been with her. If she hadn't come to her senses out there on the sidewalk, his next question would have been 'your place or mine?' Obviously, he didn't have the same hang-ups about premarital sex that she did. Apparently, neither did Callie.

Did he think she was stupid? He'd have to be blind, deaf and numb from the neck down to not want Callie. Of course he had slept with her.

"I don't believe you," Sydney snarled.

"Syd, I think I would know if I did or I didn't, and I'm telling you, I didn't."

"You've known each other for years. You've been dating for almost two months. I can't believe you haven't been to bed with her yet."

"Sydney, I am _not_ that baby's father," he shot back. "I've slept with two women in my life. Neither of them was Callie."

"But…but," she stammered, trying to wrap her mind around this new revelation. Something Julie said about her brother having had only two real girlfriends skimmed through Sydney's mixed up mind, lending a hint of credence to Gage's claim. It wasn't much, but she so _wanted _to believe him.

"If it's not your baby, then why would she think you would marry her?"

"That is a long story, but it isn't mine to tell. What I can tell you is that there was never any chance of that happening, regardless of what she said."

"Never? You mean you don't love her?"

"No, I don't. The truth is I am not now, nor have I ever been, in love with Callie. I thought I could be when we first met, when I found out that she was the cute girl from that long ago playground. She's sweet and kind and pretty. We have a history. But it's what she _isn't_ that made it impossible for me to love her, let alone sleep with her."

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Geez, I guess the song wasn't a big enough hint. YOU! She isn't you! I am so in love with you, Sydney Cooke, I can hardly stand it."

-----

Jenna watched from the cab of her white Toyota Highlander as Trent unlocked the door of his red Dodge Ram pickup. She had pulled up next to the truck, which was still parked right where Trent had wisely left it, in the lot at C.D.'s grill.

"So what's your next move?" she asked through her open driver's window.

"I'm going to go to her house and ask her if she'd rather be my work partner or my wife and see what happens," he replied, smiling.

"What do you think will happen?"

"I'd say I've got a fifty-fifty chance of getting either kissed on the mouth or punched in it." He was making a joke, but then he had a horrible thought and his smile faded.

Gage had taken Callie home from the party. What if Gage had spent the night at Callie's? What if he was still there? Getting punched suddenly seemed a whole lot more likely, especially since Trent had made up his mind that Callie was more than worth fighting for, whether he had to take on his family, his captain or a big, blond Texas Ranger, black belt or not.

He climbed into his truck considerably more subdued than before the possibility of running into Gage at Callie's house had occurred to him. Until then, he hadn't really considered that she might turn him down. Now he wasn't so sure. Jenna must have sensed his apprehension.

"You'll do fine, Trent. If she's waited this long for you, one kiss, or even one night, isn't going to change anything. Now, suck it up and go—"

"Go get my girl," Trent finished for her. "From where I'm sitting, it looks like Donnelly men get all the best girls." The dazzling grin he flashed her made her blush.

"So, go already!" Jenna chided him, shooing him on his way with a wave of her arm.

Trent waved at her one last time before closing his door. Then they both drove out of the parking lot and went their separate ways.

Forty minutes later, Trent was standing on the back porch of Callie's house feeling as deflated as a broken balloon. He'd rushed over here to propose to her. He hadn't even taken the time to pick out a ring, figuring that they could do that together once she'd said 'yes'. But she wasn't home. Talk about a let down.

He'd knocked as loud as he dared without rousing the neighbors. No answer. Peering through the backdoor curtains, he could see her black, nylon medical kit sitting in a chair at the kitchen table. Wherever she was, she didn't expect to be called to a medical emergency, which meant she wasn't at work.

He walked back toward his truck in the driveway that led to her garage. He stopped to peer into one of the garage door windows. Her two-door silver Honda was gone. By itself, that wouldn't have been too surprising, but he also noticed a large empty space on an otherwise overcrowded shelf along the garage's back wall. Having been in the garage several times, he must have seen whatever the missing item was. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture the shelf as he remembered it. A large purple rectangle came to mind, purple with silver details. No, the silver lines weren't just decorative; they were zippers. Oh, hell, it was a suitcase.

She was gone. Where? For how long? He could hardly bear the next logical question—with whom?

-----

Sydney was dumbfounded. Yeah, the song was one thing, but actually hearing him say the words out loud sent shockwaves from her head to her toes.

"Are you really that surprised?" Gage asked in response to her stunned expression. "I wasn't. I had a lot of feelings for you, Syd, almost from the first day we started working together, but I didn't want to explore them. Hell, I didn't even want to _have_ them, let alone acknowledge them, so I did everything I could to keep from crossing that line, up to and including—" He stopped, took a deep breath. He knew he had to admit he was a coward, but he needed a moment to gather the courage to do it. The paradox wasn't lost on him.

"Pretending to be involved with Callie to avoid your feelings for me," Sydney finished for him.

Gage just gaped at her.

"Julie figured it out. She told me last night when she came by to drop off my Jeep and the things I left at the bar," she explained.

Gage didn't know whether to kiss his sister or kick her butt.

"You don't sound like you're angry about that," he ventured.

"I was at first. I couldn't believe you would do something so—" She hesitated, not wanting to sound accusatory.

"Gutless." This time he finished her sentence.

"Well, that was the word I used last night, but Julie said there's an explanation, something about your former partner?"

It was Gage's turn to go pale. He let out a long sigh. This was it. He could have gone his whole life without telling this story again, to anyone, least of all Sydney. But if she was ever going to believe him, if she was ever going to understand, she had to hear it. He drew a fortifying breath and plunged in.

"Her name was Lynne Marshall. We first met at the academy. She started in the class behind me, so I was nearly done about the time she got there. A lot of sparks flew, but nothing really happened. I got accepted to the force in Houston and we went our separate ways. She came on the force about a year later. We made no secret of the fact that we knew each other and our sergeant assigned us to ride together. We tried to keep it professional, but it was no use. I fell crazy in love with her, or so I thought. We kept our relationship quiet, but not secret. Lots of people in the department knew, but no one objected to us being partners. I figured we had it made.

"One night, we got caught up in a convenience store hold up. We were off-duty but still in uniform. We'd stopped to pick up milk on the way home. Why it took two of us to buy one carton of milk, I'll never know, but while we were in there, a two-time loser named Ed Farrow came in, shoved a .22 into the cashier's face and demanded she give him the money. He didn't see Lynne or me because we were in the back near the drink coolers. Lynne pulled her weapon and stepped out into the main aisle to come up behind him. I went around another shelf, trying to get closer to him on his left. Just before Lynne got into position, Farrow saw her in the mirror over the counter. I saw his eyes move and I knew he'd seen her. He spun around and had Lynne in his sights before I could get a clear shot. I didn't even have time to yell to warn her, so I did the only thing I could do."

"You dove in front of her. You took the bullet." She said it matter-of-factly, as if risking life and limb were as commonplace for him as tying his shoes. Her gaze had turned inward, like she was watching the shooting on some internal TV screen.

"I did. I went against everything I had been taught about how to handle that situation. In that split second, I wasn't a cop covering my partner's back; I was a man protecting the woman I loved. Instead of tackling him, I tried to knock her out of the way and got shot in the back."

Sydney closed her eyes. She could see him falling, hitting the floor, blood spilling. As if from far away, she heard herself say, "What happened then?"

"Farrow ran out of the store. Lynne chased him down, tackled him and arrested him about half a block away. I found out later that the cashier was the one who first called it in."

"You mean your partner didn't even call a 10-13, officer down?"

"She did, but not until she had Farrow cuffed." That had hurt almost as much as the letter.

"I woke up in the hospital. At first, I couldn't feel anything from the waist down. The bullet had hit close to my spine. The doctors said a half-inch to the left and I would have been paralyzed permanently, but once the swelling went down, the feeling came back. Lynne didn't."

"She didn't see you in the hospital? She just left, without a word?"

Gage nodded.

Sydney mumbled something Gage couldn't quite make out, but it sounded a lot like 'cotton itch'.

"While I was in surgery, Julie called her, again and again. Finally, she went to our apartment looking for her, but all of Lynne's things were gone. She'd left a letter for me on the kitchen table. She wrote that she couldn't stay because I had proven myself to be completely reckless, even if it was on her behalf. She said if we stayed together she would worry constantly and she couldn't live like that. She quit the force and I never saw her again."

"Did she at least thank you for saving her life?"

"Not that I recall."

Sydney carried the empty cereal bowls to the sink and rinsed them out. She put the bowls and spoons in the dishwasher. Finally, she turned back to face her partner.

"I don't know if I can do this," she said after a long pause. "I've worked so hard for so long to be able to do my job and not let my feelings for you get in the way. Now you tell me you love me and, oh by the way, you also fell in love with your last female partner and it nearly got you killed. What if we get involved and one or the other of us does something equally misguided? I couldn't live with myself if I ever did anything to get you hurt, much less paralyzed or even killed."

"Well, you haven't done anything like that yet, and if the way you kissed me yesterday was any indication, I'm not the only one here who's in love."

"Of course, you're not the only one. But I still need to know one thing. Did you do all this because you didn't trust me, or because you didn't trust yourself?"

Leave it to Sydney to slice clear through to the bone.

"Both, at first, but not for very long. I knew you were nothing like Lynne almost from the moment we met. You have to know that I trusted you with my life long before this, and I knew you trusted me with yours. My heart was something else altogether. It seemed so simple. Loving someone made me take risks I knew better than to take, so I tried to close myself off, to feel as little as possible. No love, no risk, to either of us. I wasn't only trying to protect myself; I was trying to protect you, too."

"It would have been nice to be able to make that choice for myself."

"I know that now. Syd, I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I know it's no excuse, but I was just so afraid of ever having to deal with that kind of pain again, and having been through it myself, I sure as hell knew I didn't want you to ever experience it. I was wrong not to trust you enough to be honest with you. That was the least I could have done."

Sydney didn't respond. She was remembering something she'd heard once about the price of loving and being loved. At the time, she couldn't imagine anything being worth that kind of pain. But that was before she'd seen the love in Gage's eyes, felt it in his embrace.

"Have I completely screwed up? Can you ever forgive me?" Gage was hanging on by a thread. He hated the defeat he could hear in his own voice.

Sydney had two choices—hold on to her pride and lose the best thing that ever happened to her, or forgive him and spend the rest of her life in his arms. She realized she'd actually made up her mind to forgive him before the song had even ended, but he didn't have to know that. She didn't have to make it _that_ easy for him.

"That depends," she finally answered.

"On what?" A tiny ember of hope glowed amid the ashes of his heart.

"On whether or not you can stand to take advice from Miguel Montoya."

He had no idea what she was talking about, but it didn't matter. His pride was already in shreds. He would take advice from Satan himself, if it meant he could still have a future with her.

"And what words of wisdom might the sergeant have for me?"

"We can't hide from pain without also hiding from love."

"Is that a direct quote?"

"Are you making fun of me?" she shot back at the hint of sarcasm she detected in his question.

"No."

"Yes, it's a direct quote." Sydney briefly told him the story Miguel had shared with her. Gage listened quietly, his eyes never leaving her face.

"He said he would do it all again, even knowing how it would all end. All the pain, the darkness he wanted to crawl into and never come out, he said the time he and Belinda chose to share together was worth all of it," she concluded.

"Syd, are you saying what I think you're saying?" She couldn't be; it was too much to hope for. "Are you saying we still have a chance, that we're worth it?"

She could think of only one way to answer that question. She walked around the bar and took Gage by the hand, gently coaxing him off the stool. He stood in front of her, his eyes brimming with tears, his expression a mixture of hope and fear.

She took the hand she was holding, brought it up toward the chopstick in her hair and then bowed her head slightly as she let go of his hand.

He understood. He choked back a sob of joy and relief. She forgave him. He was the luckiest fool on the planet.

With trembling fingers, he slowly removed the chopstick. He watched, fascinated, as her hair unwound and fell gracefully across her shoulders. Absently, he laid the chopstick on the bar. Carefully, giving her every opportunity to pull away, he cupped her face in his hands as she looked up at him. Her eyes were so full of love his heart nearly burst on the spot.

Gage was torn between two desires. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to take complete possession of her mouth with his, to dive headlong into a soul-deep kiss. On the other, he wanted to take his time, to painstakingly and deliberately woo her with soft, feather light brushes of his lips against hers.

In the end, Sydney decided for him. Patience, apparently, was not her strong suit.

In a heartbeat, she was up on tiptoe, pressing her lips to his with an urgency that both amazed and delighted him. He eagerly responded in kind, tilting his head, deepening the kiss as he wrapped his arms around her slender waist and molded her to him. Nothing had ever felt so right. No one had ever fit so effortlessly into every angle, every plane of his body. She was perfect.

Sydney started to slide her arms around his neck, but stopped so that she could shed her bathrobe. She was burning up; the snug wrap had to go. She wriggled against Gage's chest, trying to free her arms from the sleeves, but he misinterpreted her movement and held her tighter.

"Wait. Help me get this robe off, will you?" she requested, thinking he would yank it off of her like the fiery straight jacket she felt it was. But he didn't.

Instead, he took the opportunity to slow the pace considerably. He moved his hands to the front of her robe and eased them inside it, all the while kissing her with those soft, feathery touches he'd thought about earlier. His fingers hovered for a long moment along the sides of her breasts, almost touching but not quite. He heard her breath catch and he smiled.

"Please, Gage, I'm so…hot," she pleaded.

"Are you now?" he whispered, as he kissed a trail from her collarbone to the soft spot behind her left ear. "That seems odd, considering that you're trembling."

"I can't…help it," she panted.

"Don't fight it, Syd. Feel it." He slid his hands over her shoulders and pushed the robe away from her quivering body, inch by maddening inch.

Finally, she dropped her arms, letting the robe fall to the floor in a blue puddle. A rush of cool air brushed against her skin, refreshing but short-lived. Gage's arms wound around her shoulders, enveloping her in the warm, spicy scent that was uniquely _him._ She kissed her way along his jaw, buried her face in his neck and drank him in like a sommelier sampling a fine wine.

His lips claimed hers again. This time his tongue boldly demanded access and she obliged, matching him stroke for stroke as their mouths cavorted in the most luscious kiss of his entire life. He needed to breathe, but he couldn't stop. Not yet. Just one more taste. Oh, God, she was so, so sweet.

A host of new sensations swirled through her. She had no idea such passion—such hunger—existed, until his touch awakened it deep within her. He had loosed it and now it would not be denied. Her reason, her will, fell victim to its insatiable appetite. Only one thing would satisfy the need clawing at her soul, but before she could ask him for it, she had one other question.

"Do you love me?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for any sign of hesitation or insincerity.

"Oh, yes, Syd. I love you. I'll love you forever, to the grave and beyond," he pledged fervently.

"Forever?"

"Even longer."

That was good enough for her.

"I love you, too. I have no words to tell you how much I love you, but maybe this will say it for me." With that, she took his hand and tugged him toward the hallway that led to her bedroom. With every step, her heart beat against her ribs like a butterfly in a net trying to break free. She could hardly breathe; she wanted him so much.

Halfway down the hall, he stopped, planted his feet and forced her to turn and face him.

"Syd, are you sure? Because once we do this, it can't be undone."

The intensity of his gaze told her he wasn't just referring to changes in their working relationship. How he knew he was her first didn't matter, only that he knew.

"I'm sure. You are the first, last and always love of my life. Who else would I give myself to but you?"

He was suddenly struck by how far the two of them had traveled in the past few hours, from the ravages of two broken hearts to a lifetime commitment for two hearts to beat as one. This morning he had been afraid she wouldn't let him in the house. Now, she was inviting him into her bedroom, asking him to lay claim to her body.

He was more than honored. He was humbled. He might as well go for broke.

"Your husband, that's who. Sydney Rose Cooke, will you marry me?"

_Ring. Ring._

Gage and Sydney's cell phones rang almost simultaneously, Gage's in his pants pocket and Sydney's on the nightstand in the bedroom.

They looked at each other for a long moment, as if both of them were frozen in place, paralyzed by the intrusion.

_Ring. Ring._

Sydney was the first to break the spell. "Hold that thought," she said, trying to stifle a nervous laugh, as she ducked into the bedroom to answer her phone.

Gage tore his phone from his pocket and checked the caller ID. Trivette.

Slamming it open, he growled, "Somebody better be dead, or you're gonna be!"


	20. Chapter 20

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 20

Jason Small was beginning to think his quarry had a bladder the size of a pea. He'd been following the pretty blond woman in the silver Honda coupe for nearly two hours and she had already made two pit stops at fast food restaurants along I-45. At the first one, she had come out carrying a bag, presumably containing some sort of breakfast food. About thirty minutes later, she stopped again, but this time she was in and out in less than five minutes and came out empty handed.

He had just pulled his rented SUV back out onto the southbound lane of I-45, careful to keep several vehicles between his and the Honda, when his cell phone rang.

"Hi, Boss," Small answered. Only one person on the planet had the number for this particular cell phone.

"I assume you found everything you needed," Byron James Ronson stated evenly.

"Sure did. Everything was in the computer file attached to the email—addresses, names, photos, the works," Small replied, glancing over at a laser printed photo on the seat next to him. The picture showed the young woman he was following getting into a blue and white pickup truck with a man whose smiling face made Small's blood boil, Ranger Francis Gage.

"Where are you now?"

"Uh, yeah, about that. I'm following the Ranger's girlfriend like you told me to, but it looks like she's going on vacation or something. I'm two hours south of Dallas on I-45, just outside of Madisonville." He braced himself for the explosive reaction he knew was coming.

"Great! That's just great! Julie Gage is out of town and now the girlfriend splits, too. I swear to God, Jason, if you blabbed to somebody about my escape and the Rangers got wind of it—"

"No! I didn't tell a soul, Boss, honest! It has to be just coincidence. The Wright woman left her house early this morning with one suitcase, maybe enough stuff for a week or ten days, at most."

"I can't wait a week. Since I haven't seen my face on the local news yet, I assume those incompetents at the county prison don't even know I'm gone yet, but that won't last past lunchtime. I thought I'd have Julie in hand by now."

"How do you know Julie is out of town?" Small inquired.

"I called the newspaper and asked to speak to her. The person I talked to said she was out of town until tomorrow."

"Guess it's a good thing Finch identified the Ranger's girlfriend as another potential target. He'll trade the files for her as quick as he would for his sister, don't you think?"

"That's what I'm counting on. Like I'm counting on you to not screw this up, Jason. You grab her and bring her to me just like I told you—unharmed. Once I get what I need out of the ranger you can have your fun with her, but until then, if you touch her, I'll kill you myself. Understand?" Ronson's voice was pure steel.

"No need to get testy. I've got as much of a stake in this as you do. If they can't convict you, then the accessory charges against me go away, too. She won't have a mark on her, I swear," Small promised.

"OK, then. Call when you have her," Ronson barked before abruptly hanging up. Small folded the phone shut and dropped it into his inside jacket pocket.

He figured it probably wouldn't be more than thirty minutes or so before she needed to take another potty break. He'd scope out the situation and if he could take her without being seen, he would. Otherwise, he'd wait and watch for a better opportunity. It wasn't like he had any other pressing engagements.

Of course, it wouldn't be easy obeying Ronson's order to keep his hands to himself. The girlfriend was very pretty and had legs for days. He was a leg man, always had been. Other guys went for breasts or butts, but he got a special thrill from making his women wrap their long, silky legs around his waist, or better yet, drape them over his shoulders. Oh, yeah, he needed to work fast with this one. The quicker he grabbed her, the quicker he could turn her over to Ronson and rid himself of the temptation. He never had been any good at resisting temptation. His lengthy rap sheet was proof of that.

-----

Callie couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. Between the morning sickness—she'd known that breakfast burrito was a bad idea, but it just looked _so good_ in the picture—and her total lack of sleep the night before, she was done in and it wasn't even noon. As much as she hated to do it, she was going to have to stop and rest or she'd end up a highway crash statistic.

Scanning the selection of motels along the highway, she spotted one she recognized. She'd stayed at the Starlight Inn four years ago when she'd first moved to Dallas from Houston. She remembered it had clean rooms and plentiful hot water as well as a pretty decent restaurant located just across the parking lot. It would be as good a place as any to get some sleep before continuing on to her grandfather's new place in Galveston.

Twenty minutes later, she sat on the bed in her room and called her grandfather to say she'd be arriving tomorrow instead of this afternoon. Then, she dialed Liz's cell phone number and told her where she was. She had promised Gage to tell Liz where she was going and Liz had insisted that she call her whenever and wherever she stopped along the way.

"Are you sure you're OK? Why did you stop so soon? I thought you'd get at least to Huntsville before I heard from you," Liz inquired.

"I'm just worn out. Losing my breakfast this morning didn't help and I didn't get any sleep last night. I thought about getting a good eight hours sleep and a meal and then pushing on, but Grandpa will worry about me driving after dark, so I'll probably stay the night here. I'll get an early start tomorrow. That should still put me in Galveston well before lunchtime," Callie replied.

"I still think you should have at least left Trent a note or something. He'll panic when he doesn't hear from you." She didn't go as far as to tell her what a mess Trent was after the party. The girl had enough to worry about.

"Liz, you promised you wouldn't tell him anything. You aren't backing out on me now, are you?"

"No, I said I wouldn't tell and I won't. Wild horses couldn't drag it out of me, but if he asks, can I at least tell him that you are alright and that _eventually_ you will get in touch with him?"

"Yes, you can tell him that much. I don't want him filing missing person reports or issuing a statewide alarm," Callie said, only half joking.

"Do you think he'd do that?" Liz didn't see the humor.

"No, I think he'll check my house first and when he doesn't find me there, he'll ask Captain O'Malley if he's heard from me. O'Malley will tell him all he knows, which is that I requested two weeks vacation effective immediately. I was surprised the captain didn't ask for more details, but he didn't and I didn't offer any. After that, he'll probably just keep calling my cell phone every five minutes. I intend to turn it off as soon as I hang up with you."

"You know he'll eventually ask Gage what he knows, and he won't ask nicely," Liz stated.

"Yeah, I know," Callie acknowledged. "Gage and I talked about that when he took me home last night. He wishes I would tell Trent the truth, but he respects my decision. He has no idea where I'm going, so even if Trent confronts him, he can't tell him what he doesn't know."

"Do you think Trent will let it go at that?"

"Gage is a big boy, or so he told me last night when I asked him that very thing. I hope Trent knows better than to take on a black-belt Texas Ranger."

"I hope so, too, but a man in love whose woman has gone missing isn't usually the most rational guy in the room," Liz affirmed.

Callie couldn't picture Trent actually fighting anyone over her. He'd never attempted to buck the system in any way, not with Captain O'Malley, not with his family. He hadn't even argued much when she told him about Gage's offer to be her 'cover'. As long as it would allow them to remain both partners and lovers, it was OK by him.

"I'm pretty sure it won't come to that," Callie told Liz just as she let loose with a tremendous yawn.

"Sounds like you could use a nap. I'll let you go for now, but don't forget to call me when you head out tomorrow morning," Liz commanded.

"Aye, aye, skipper," Callie returned. "Bye, Liz, and thanks for understanding."

"Don't give me too much credit. I don't understand squat," Liz corrected her. "What's more, I think you're underestimating my nephew something awful. The only reason I agreed to any of this is because you threatened to disappear if I didn't. I care too much about Trent—and you—to let that happen."

"In that case, thank you for helping me, even though you don't understand. You are a formidable—_yawn_—friend, Liz Matthews. Good-bye," Callie concluded, snapping her phone shut and turning it off before dropping it into her purse.

Too tired to manage anything other than shucking her sneakers, she curled up on top of the king-size bed still wearing the black running shorts and pink t-shirt she'd had on since leaving home. She knew she should get up and brush her teeth, but it felt too good to be lying down, so she stayed put. And instead of fighting the next wave of exhaustion, she let it wash over her and carry her away.

-----

Sydney checked the caller ID on her phone. The call was from Walker, but as soon as Gage answered his phone, hers had stopped ringing. Walker must have been calling her to help locate Gage in case Trivette couldn't reach him. She wondered what could be so urgent.

She saw Gage's expression shift instantly from fuming anger to utter shock as he listened to Trivette.

"He _what?_ How did that happen?" he hollered. Then, in answer to Sydney's puzzled expression, "Ronson escaped."

He switched his phone to speaker so Sydney could listen as Trivette briefly explained that Ronson disappeared from the prison loading dock late yesterday evening while he and two other inmates were supposed to be unloading supplies from several delivery trucks.

"He's been out more than twelve hours and we're just finding out about it now?" Gage was beyond furious; he was apoplectic. Ronson knew where Julie lived!

"The prison didn't even know he was missing until an hour ago. Apparently, one of the delivery drivers switched clothing with him and then actually took Ronson's place in the lockup, spent the night in his cell and everything, while Ronson drove off in the guy's truck. The switch wasn't discovered until this morning when—get this—Ronson's _lawyer_ showed up to prep him for the evidentiary hearing scheduled for tomorrow," Trivette explained, adding, "I'm guessing Ronson didn't know he had the only lawyer in the country who makes Sunday morning prison calls."

"Yeah, he probably figured it would be Monday at the earliest before anybody missed him. Or maybe, he knew he only needed a few hours head start and it didn't matter if he was missed today," Walker added, joining the conversation on Trivette's end. The tinny quality of his voice told Gage that Trivette had put his phone on speaker, too.

"Walker, I have to get to Julie. The first thing he'll do is go after her," Gage affirmed.

"She's somewhere between here and San Francisco, remember? She had a job interview there," Sydney put in.

"Sydney?" Trivette piped up, surprise evident in his voice. "Did Gage drop in for breakfast again?"

Sydney cringed, hoping Gage wouldn't be upset that she'd given away his whereabouts. She cracked one eye open and with a pained expression mouthed the words, "I'm sorry."

"It's OK," he mouthed back, smiling. To Trivette, he scolded, "Jimmy, I ought to let you have it with both barrels for making something out of nothing, but I'm a little short on snappy comebacks right now since _my sister's life is on the line!_ "

"Sorry, man," Jimmy replied, thinking that Gage wasn't giving himself enough credit in the snappy comeback department.

Walker steered the group back to the topic at hand.

"Gage, can you get in touch with your sister?" the senior ranger asked.

"Sure. I'm going to tell her to just stay put and not come back to Dallas until we locate Ronson."

Walker immediately shot that plan down. "She has to come back to testify at the evidentiary hearing tomorrow. Alex needs her to authenticate her files."

"Ronson has probably already been to her place and found out she isn't there. The question is what will he do now, wait there for her to come back, or try to find out where she is and use one of his West Coast contacts to get to her?" Trivette speculated.

Gage's blood pressure doubled as he pictured Ronson skulking around his sister's apartment building. He also didn't need to be reminded Ronson had his own underground communications network that stretched from here to Alaska, with hundreds of people willing to do whatever he asked.

"Our only choice is to call in the Federal Marshals," Walker stated.

"Witness protection? Not a chance! There has to be another way. Julie will never sit still for that, and neither will I!" Gage had never raised his voice to his boss before, but this was his only sister they were talking about. No way was he going to stand by and watch her be spirited away into the wild blue yonder.

"Gage, I'm not talking about that kind of protection, not yet anyway. The marshals can provide round-the-clock protection for her beginning immediately and continuing until after the hearing tomorrow. If we don't have Ronson back in custody by then, God knows how long it will take us to catch him. Julie would have to go into hiding anyway, either that or be in constant danger indefinitely. Why not let the marshals hide her? They're the experts," Walker reasoned.

"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that," Sydney interjected, laying a hand on Gage's arm to stay his next comment. "Have you got someone watching Julie's place in case he either hasn't been there yet or he goes back?"

"Yes, when I didn't get an answer at her place this morning, I put a call in to the state police in Whitesboro. Your buddy, Sergeant Montoya, said he would make sure her place was covered," Trivette assured her.

Gage put an arm around Sydney's shoulders and squeezed. "Tell the sergeant I owe him, big time," he said as he and Sydney shared a knowing smile.

"Uh, sure," Trivette replied, puzzling over the depth of gratitude evident in Gage's voice.

"In the meantime, Trivette, you call the marshals and tell them we'll be needing their help," Walker instructed. "Gage, you call Julie and find out where she is. If she's already at her job interview, tell her to stay there. If not, tell her to get in a cab and head straight to the airport. Then let Trivette know which it is and he'll tell the marshals where to meet her."

"You got it, boss," Gage responded.

Walker knew Gage still didn't like the idea of involving the feds. He also knew the younger ranger trusted him completely or he wouldn't have complied so unquestioningly with his last order. He hoped that trust was well placed. Ronson had been out too long for Walker to be completely sure of anything at the moment.

Gage was vaguely aware that a ruckus of some kind was providing background noise to the conversation he was having with Trivette and Walker. It sounded like a struggle, complete with raised voices and a loud _CRASH!_

As if on cue, Trivette mumbled, "What the heck…? What's he doing here?"

"Jimmy? Hey, Jimmy!" Gage all but shouted into the phone, trying to recapture Trivette's attention. "What's going on there?"

"Uh, you're not going to believe this, but your girlfriend's partner is here looking for you, and he seems rather upset," Trivette informed him.

Gage shot a glance at Sydney, whose expression darkened somewhat at Trivette's reference to Gage's 'girlfriend'. Syd may have forgiven him for his involvement with Callie, but he still had a lot of explaining to do to their friends.

He gave a little shrug and mouthed, "Sorry."

She shook her head and silently told him, "It's OK," before kissing him—very lightly and very quietly—on the cheek. Then she went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Forcing his attention back to the phone, Gage asked, "Can you get Trent over there so I can talk to him?"

"Yeah, sure. I think Walker just told him he could speak with you if he promised not to knock over any more chairs. Here they come."

"Gage? Are you there?" Trent hollered.

"Yeah, man, I'm right here. No need to shout. What are you doing at Ranger headquarters?"

"Looking for you. Where the hell is Callie?"

Gage _so _did not need this right now. A vicious killer was on the loose and gunning for his sister. He'd just proposed to Sydney and hadn't gotten an answer yet. And now, a rampaging Trent was busting up his place of work in search of his pregnant girlfriend, who was determined to avoid him at all costs. It had all the makings of a really bad country song. Trouble was, it was Gage's very real life.

"Trent, this really isn't a good time for this discussion. We've got kind of an emergency going on right now—"

"The only emergency I care about is finding Callie. She's gone, Gage. Packed a big suitcase, took two weeks leave and split. You can come here and we can hash this out, or you can make me come find you. Which is it going to be?"

"I don't suppose it would do any good to tell you I don't know where she is, would it?"

"Not one bit, because I don't believe you."

"Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say. OK, Trent, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Try not to break anything or get arrested before I get there. Hey, Trivette?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"You might as well have him wait downstairs in the gym. I've got a feeling that's where we'll end up anyway."

Trivette switched his phone off of speaker and put the handset to his ear.

Lowering his voice so Trent wouldn't hear him, he offered a solution to Gage's problem. "You just say the word, man, and this guy is in handcuffs. He's already committed half a dozen misdemeanors."

"No, I knew this was coming. I just didn't think it would be today. It's a long story that I don't have time to tell you now. The gist of it is that he wants to know where Callie is and he isn't going to take 'I don't know' for an answer, even though I really don't know. Suffice it to say that the guy has a right to take a swing or two at me if he thinks he has to."

"Are we talking major bloodshed here?"

"No, more like a few significant bruises. Don't worry. The only EMT he'll need when I'm done is his partner, and that's as much as I can say about it right now. See you in a few minutes," Gage concluded.

"You got it, buddy. I'll escort him downstairs. Bye," Trivette finished and hung up.

Gage turned around to find Sydney fully dressed in black jeans and that glorious electric blue shirt she'd worn a while back. She must have finished getting ready while he was on the phone dealing with Trent.

"Did I hear you say Trent had a right to take a swing at you? What for?" Sydney quizzed him.

"Babe, I promise I'll tell you the whole story after Trent and I…uh, how did he put it? Hash things out. But first I have to call Julie and tell her about Ronson and the federal marshals. She's going to hate this plan even more than she hated the safe house idea. Looks like I get to take two beatings today, one verbal and one physical."

"Well, I have only one word to say to you right now, Francis Gage." She glowered at him, her hands on her hips, her mouth set in a thin line of disapproval.

"What?" he asked hesitantly.

Unable to hold her pretend scowl any longer, she broke into a mile-wide grin and said, "Yes!" right before she leaped into his arms and kissed him senseless.

-----

Small sat in his SUV in the parking lot between the motel and the restaurant, sipping a cup of coffee and congratulating himself for coming up with a plan to find out which room Gage's girlfriend was in. He could just wait and watch for her to leave her room, but that could take hours, maybe even all night. Ronson wanted results and he wanted them fast.

By registering for his own room at the Starlight Motel, which he had no intention of using, Small had accomplished two purposes: establishing his identity as Jay Miller, a traveling salesman from Idaho; and creating a friendly rapport with the clerk.

In an hour or so, 'Mr. Miller' would go back and mention that he thought he'd seen an old friend from back home, a Ms. Callie Wright, leave the restaurant and head toward the motel. Sadly, he would say, he hadn't seen which room she disappeared into. Would it be too much trouble, he would ask as innocently as possible, for him to get her room number? He would so love to chat with her again, and wouldn't she be surprised to see him here at the Starlight Motel, of all places, after all these years?

The tactic wasn't exactly foolproof. It presupposed that Callie was using her real name and that the motel clerk would think him as harmless as his fake glasses, walking cane and affected limp made him look. To a more astute observer, the limp and cane would appear incongruous with Small's body builder physique. His hazel eyes had no real need of glasses, except occasionally for reading, a consequence of turning forty years old. But the clerk, a short, rotund fellow with a perpetual deer-in-the-headlights expression, had readily accepted his performance as gospel. He had no reason to believe the man would question him. Small would be on his way back to Dallas with his captive before sundown.


	21. Chapter 21

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 21

"Yes? Really? Yes!" Gage exclaimed as he swung Sydney up into his arms, cradling her against his chest and kissing her sweetly on the lips. "Oh, Syd, you have made me so happy. I still can't quite believe we've come this far just since last night."

"Gage, I knew before that song ended that I would forgive you for everything. The only question then was the baby, and you explained that, sort of," Sydney replied as he set her back down on her feet. She looked up at him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, but I won't promise I'll have an answer." It wasn't his place to tell the tale of Callie and Trent.

"Fair enough. Did Callie have her own reasons for dating you, reasons that maybe involved her partner and their feelings for each other?"

"Why would you ask that?" Gage posed innocently. Too innocently.

"I saw Trent's reaction to that kiss Callie laid on you at the party. He went from stunned to furious in about two seconds flat. I had the same reaction, but I was in love with one of the kissers, so that made sense. The only way his reaction makes sense is if he was in love with one of you, too. And something tells me it isn't you."

In lieu of answering her question, Gage kissed her again, slowly, thoroughly. She melted into him, making him regret his promise to meet Trent at headquarters in twenty minutes. Deeply regret it.

"Hmm. Good answer. Now let's try another question. Is it Trent's baby?"

Mischief shone from her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing and now, so did he.

His lips found hers one more time. He teased her by running his tongue along the edge of her bottom lip, then the top one, but never moving farther than her teeth. After enduring several seconds of his delicate torture, she moaned in frustration and took his face in her hands, pressing her own mouth hard against his and shoving her tongue inside. His knees buckled and they fell, with her back against the hallway wall and him leaning into her.

Regaining his balance, he slid his hands under her bottom. Before he could stop himself, he lifted her off her feet, pinning her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, creating an intimate friction that set him on fire.

His counterattack was backfiring—quickly. He'd surmised that she was trying to keep him from his pugilistic appointment with Trent by playing the questions-for-kisses game, and he had been willing to go along, up to a point. He'd intended to raise her temperature a bit and then break away, thus making the statement that while he very much appreciated her intentions, a man had to do what a man had to do. And a woman couldn't change that, no matter how exquisite her kisses were.

However, now _his_ temperature was nearly off the charts and she kept heaping fuel on the fire by moving her hips against his in a dance guaranteed to cause third degree burns.

He tore his mouth from hers. "Syd! Oh, God, honey, you're killing me," he managed through gritted teeth. She slowed down, but that only made things worse.

"Baby, I know you don't want me to go deal with Trent, but unless you let me go _right now, _our first time together is going to be standing up, against the wall in your hallway. Is that what you want?"

Sydney considered the possibility for a moment. She was as turned on as she had ever been. She could think of worse fates than losing her virginity standing up, but it certainly wasn't how she'd always dreamed it would be. In the end, the dream won out.

"No, it really isn't. I'm sorry, I guess I got pretty carried away." She disengaged her legs and slid down his front, eliciting one last long groan from his throat.

"You'll never have to apologize to me for being passionate, Syd. It's one of the things I love about you. However, there is a time and a place for ev—"

"And now it's time for you to go and let Trent beat you up because you don't know where Callie is," Sydney stated, with only the slightest hint of dissatisfaction.

"What makes you think he's going to beat _me_ up, oh ye of little faith?"

"Oh, I know you could take him, my love, but you won't. I meant what I said. You are going to _let him_ beat you up, because you feel guilty about keeping whatever secret Callie told you to keep."

"If you can see through me that easily, how come you were so surprised when I said I was in love with you?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's a side benefit of being _engaged," _she teased.

"Speaking of that," he replied, as he risked putting his arms around her again, "Do you want to discuss rings and dates and flower girls right away, or should we catch Ronson and maybe have sex first?"

"In that order?" She reached up and laced her fingers behind his head.

He traced her jaw with his index finger. "No, not unless we can have Ronson back in jail before dinnertime. I don't intend to spend one more night without you. Ever."

"Mah, mah, Ranger Gage, ah do believe you are tryin' to turn mah head," Sydney purred in her best imitation of Scarlet O'Hara.

"Is it working?"

"Famously," she assured him, and then kissed him briefly, but soundly, on the lips. "Famously."

-----

Twenty-five minutes and one very quick, very cold shower later, Gage walked into the Company B offices with Sydney right behind him.

Trivette practically knocked Walker over in his hurry to start interrogating the couple about everything from Gage's early morning appearance at Sydney's house to Callie Wright skipping town without telling either her boyfriend or her partner where she was going. He was also beginning to have his suspicions about which guy was the real significant other in Callie's life. He hadn't missed either man's reaction to Callie's 'birthday kiss.'

"Hey, Gage. Good morning, Syd," Trivette greeted them. "Nice day, huh?" He took a sip from his coffee cup and then raised it in a sort of salute. "Coffee?" he offered.

Gage just folded his arms across his chest and looked his fellow ranger in the eye.

"OK, Jimmy, fire away. You've got exactly one minute to ask questions before I head downstairs."

Jimmy tried to look innocent, but Gage wasn't buying it.

"C'mon, Jimmy, I can see that you are busting a gut to find out what this is all about, so go ahead and get if off your chest," Gage encouraged.

With Gage's permission, Jimmy launched a barrage of questions at him. "Why does Trent think you know where Callie is when you say you don't? Why do neither of you know where she is? Why would she leave town without telling either her boyfriend or her partner where she's going?" Jimmy stopped to take a breath, giving Gage an opportunity to answer before more inquiries flew his way.

"Her reasons for not telling Trent are her own. I suspect she didn't tell me so that I wouldn't tell him. And I'm not her boyfriend. Never was, really, but that is a very long story that will have to wait until after Trent and I work out a few things. Any more questions?"

"Yep. What _were_ you doing at Sydney's place so early this morning?"

"Apologizing, professing my love and proposing," he answered, ticking them off on his fingers one by one. He checked his watch. "Time's up. Gotta go."

Turning to Sydney, Gage placed a tender kiss on her lips. He smiled and shrugged a little sheepishly before heading for the door.

Jimmy stood slack-jawed next to her as they both watched the door close behind him.

"Close your mouth, Jimmy," Sydney said as she reached up and gently pushed his chin up to meet the rest of his head. "You'll catch flies."

-----

Gage and Trent spotted one another the minute Gage entered the gym. Their gazes locked and Gage felt his stomach drop. Trent's expression clearly stated there would be no diplomatic solution to the issue at hand.

This was war.

"We don't have to do this, Trent," Gage stated as he walked over to the bench on the far side of the thick blue mat that covered the majority of the gym floor.

Trent paced the thin strip of tile floor in front of the bench. He had already shed his black Stetson and laid it on the bench. He stopped pacing and faced Gage.

"You're right; we don't. Just tell me where Callie is and I'll be on my way. No harm, no foul," Trent replied.

Experience had taught Gage to read his opponents quickly, to evaluate both their readiness for the coming fight as well as their commitment to it. A sweeping head-to-toe glance revealed damp circles in the armpits of Trent's black t-shirt as well as a slight bounce to his step as he continued to pace in his cowboy boots. His jaw was set in granite, but his eyes held a wariness that would have made Gage smile had he not thought Trent would punch it right off his face. Apparently, Trent had enough respect for Gage's abilities to be afraid, but too much pride—and determination to find Callie—to back down. Good for him.

"I can't tell you what I don't know. You know her a lot better than I do. Where do you think she is?" Gage posed as he sat down on the bench and removed his shoes and socks. He also took off his belt and then stripped off his t-shirt before stepping out onto the mat.

Trent followed suit, removing his boots, socks, belt and shirt before joining Gage.

The tall, lanky Irishman took a good look at his bulky blond opponent. Even without the cowboy boots he'd just taken off, he was a good two inches taller than Gage. However, the ranger outweighed him by at least thirty pounds. Despite the size difference, Gage moved with a fluidity that gave Trent the impression of a mongoose poised to attack a cobra.

Trent had one other disadvantage. Tae kwon do wasn't part of the standard EMT training. He knew he was on a fool's errand, but he also knew he wasn't leaving without knowing what was going on with Callie, even if it meant getting his head kicked in.

"If I knew where to go, I'd already be on my way there. You took her home last night. This morning she's gone, without a word, and you don't seem the least bit surprised. Even if you don't know exactly where she is, you know something, like why she left, and I'm not leaving until you tell me."

"I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone. I won't go back on my word."

"I figured as much," Trent replied. "The hell of it is, in your place, I'd be doing the same thing." And he would.

Trent's even tone belied his readiness to strike. Springing up off the mat, he kicked Gage in the chest with the impact of a Howitzer. Gage flew backwards across the mat and landed flat on his back.

Where did that come from? Trent wondered silently.

Out loud he said, "Are we done yet?"

He tried to sound cocky, but the truth was he'd never kicked anybody like that in his life. Not that way and not that hard. His foot hurt like crazy. He didn't have another shot like that in him. In all the years of brotherly warfare he and his siblings had engaged in, Trent had learned more about the art of bluffing than fighting. If Gage didn't give in right now, he was toast.

"Won't…tell…you," Gage wheezed as he slowly got to his feet.

_Oh, hell. _Leave it to Callie to confide in a guy with principles, someone she could actually _trust _to not sell her out for the sake of his career, someone who wasn't him.

Gage sent a right hook crashing into Trent's jaw. With stars dancing before his eyes, Trent glanced into the mirror on the gym wall expecting to see a railroad spike lodged in his face. Damn, Gage hit hard.

Trent's next swing went wide. Gage easily sidestepped the punch, using the momentum to launch into a spinning back kick that sent Trent sprawling across the mat. Blood dripped from a split in Trent's bottom lip.

"Are we done yet?" Gage asked, parroting his opponent. He hadn't meant for that kick to connect with that much force. He was trying not to hurt Trent, but for the sake of the other man's pride, he had to make it look like he wanted to win this thing.

"Not unless you're going to tell me about Callie," Trent replied as he pulled himself to his hands and knees.

Then, almost as suddenly as it had begun, the battle was over. Gage watched as all the fight suddenly drained out of Trent. He sagged a little and then sat back on his heels. His shoulders drooped and his head hung as he pleaded, "You have to tell me, Gage. I love her. She means everything to me."

Gage knew Trent was sincere. He suddenly remembered what it felt like when Lynne left him. He'd been so lost. He'd have done anything back then—including taking a beating—for just one chance to talk to her, to explain. And then there was this morning with Sydney. God's own army couldn't have stopped him from saying what he had to say to her.

"Maybe if you did a better job of convincing her of that, she would have told you herself," Gage answered as he stepped back and dropped his hands. No use kicking a guy when he was down, and right now Trent looked about as down as a guy could get.

"Listen," Gage continued, as he helped Trent to his feet. "I can't tell you what she said because she made me promise not to, but I can tell you what she _didn't_ say."

"How will that help?"

"Pay attention and maybe you can figure it out."

Trent looked at him expectantly as he wiped blood from his cut lip.

"She did not say that she hated your guts and she never wanted to see you again," Gage began. "She did not say that what happened was your fault. She did not say that she loved having to suddenly leave town. She did not say she was doing those things because she wanted your career to suffer. She did not—"

"OK, OK, stop a minute. I get it, but keeping up with you is giving me a headache. So, if she didn't say all that, then can I assume she said something like, she loves me and wants to see me again?" Trent's voice was filled with cautious hope.

"I plead the fifth." Gage was smiling.

"And she doesn't blame me for what happened? Whatever that was?"

Gage's smile grew brighter. His teeth showed.

"And she hated leaving town, but she did it because she was somehow protecting my career?"

"You didn't hear me say that, did you?" He was still smiling.

"Is there anything else she didn't say that I should know?"

"One thing. She didn't ask if you could count on a calendar – _backwards_."

Gage knew he was walking a thin line with regard to revealing Callie's secret, but he also knew how much Trent loved her. He'd never do anything to hurt her. He would want to do the right thing by her and his child. Beyond that, Gage knew how he would feel in Trent's place, so if he crossed the line just a teeny bit, well, he could live with that.

An image flashed into Trent' head of Callie flipping pages in her pocket calendar one day last week at lunch. He recalled that she'd spent part of their weekend getaway in San Antonio feeling nauseous and tired. She had said she was checking the calendar to see when she might be able to get a doctor's appointment to find out what the problem was. But maybe that wasn't it at all. Maybe she was counting backwards because… _Holy hell!_

"You son of a bitch!" Trent shouted as he punched Gage squarely in the jaw. "She's pregnant!"

Gage blinked hard a few times to clear away the stars floating before his eyes. He rubbed his jaw. _That_ was gonna leave a mark.

"Well, what did you hit me for? I didn't do it!" Gage protested.

"I know you didn't. I did."

Hearing the pride in Trent's voice, Gage felt better about letting Callie's secret 'slip.'

"Congratulations, you're smarter than I thought. But if you sucker punch me like that again, I'll arrest you for assaulting a Texas Ranger. Be hard to see your kid from jail," Gage warned him.

"Sorry 'bout that - sort of. How could you promise not to tell me that? What were you thinking?"

"She threatened to leave without telling anyone where she was going if I didn't. As it is, you'll have to ask your Aunt Liz where she is, but Callie probably swore her to secrecy, too."

"Probably." Trent let out a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Gage asked, incredulously.

"She must have thought I'd get the truth out of you somehow, which means she either has a lot more faith in me than I deserve, or a lot less in you than I thought. That's why she only told Liz where she was going. That little gray haired woman is made of steel. Nothing will budge her."

"She's only like that because she's such a mother hen. My sister has the same problem. It's about protecting her chicks. So, what's the first thing she'll want Callie to do when she gets to where she's going?"

"Call her and tell her she got there safely," Trent said excitedly. He knew where Gage was going with this. "Oh, you sly dog, can you really do this, without a warrant or whatever?"

"Dude, I'm a Texas Ranger. I can do damn near anything."

-----

Two hours later, Trent parked his truck in front of the dimly lit office of the Starlight Motel and went inside.

It had taken Gage less than twenty minutes to find the last call made to Liz's cell phone from an out-of-town location. But since Callie was using a cell phone, they couldn't pinpoint her exact whereabouts. The cell tower that had routed the last call was just outside of Madisonville. The Starlight was the fourth in a long line of motels that stretched for about two miles on either side of I-45. Trent figured since Callie was headed south, he'd start with the places on the southbound side of the highway. He'd already struck out at the Palm, the Red Roof Inn and a Homewood Suites.

He showed the Starlight's desk clerk a picture of Callie. "Did you rent a room to this woman?"

The clerk, a short, pudgy man with vacant eyes and ketchup stains on his undershirt, studied the photograph, spat an oily brown liquid into a McDonald's drink cup and scratched his flabby chest.

"Sure did," the silver-tongued devil replied.

_Thank God._

Trent had had visions of driving all night to wherever the phone records led. Or worse, getting there only to find that she had already moved on, purposely staying one step ahead of him. But she'd only gone as far as Madisonville before she stopped and called Liz.

"You're the second fella come lookin' for her. Hey, she ain't some hooker is she? I run a clean place here," the clerk stated emphatically.

Trent chose to ignore the man's filthy-minded assumption. "What room is she in?" Trent demanded, his heart hammering in his chest. Second fella? What the hell?

"Room seventeen, but she's not th—"

The rest of the clerk's words went unheard as Trent was already out the door, running along the front of the one-story building, skidding to a stop in front of a door marked '17'.

"Callie!" he hollered. He slammed his fist against the door and felt his legs turn to water when it swung open easily, revealing a jumbled mess of upended furniture and women's clothing. A lamp was on its side, its bulb casting an eerie swath of golden light across Callie's open suitcase, which had been tossed against the far wall. Trent's gaze lit on purple lace. His heart stopped.

"Callie! Callie!" he called out as he stormed through the room, checking the closet and bathroom, knowing she wasn't there, but unable to force his paralyzed mind to think past the obvious.

"I tried to tell you she wasn't here. Good Lord, look at this room!"

The clerk had followed him and now was standing just outside the doorway.

Trent seized the man's undershirt with both hands and yanked him off his feet.

"Who was this other guy? What did he look like? How long ago did he take her?" he barked in rapid-fire succession. Looking again at the damage in the room, his stomach pitched and rolled. She must have put up a fight – and lost.

"How could you have just forked over her room number to some stranger? Couldn't you see she was all alone?" His anger and fear knew no bounds. If this idiot didn't start talking soon, Trent was going to rearrange his body parts, as surely as Callie's assailant had rearranged the room.

"Tell me! Now!" He forced his hands open and let go of the tattered shirt. The clerk crumpled to the ground in a whining heap.

"OK! OK! He said his name was Jay Miller, a salesman from Idaho. Said he and the lady were old friends from back home. He was shorter than you, a little, with wavy dark hair and kind of droopy eyes. He had thick glasses and a big nose. He talked like a Yankee and walked with a limp and a cane. And before you ask, he paid cash for his room and I didn't see which way they went when they left."

"Anything else? Did he have a weapon?"

"Not that I saw. I think he might have been Italian," the clerk speculated. He made a face that gave the impression that deep thought was painful for him.

"What makes you say that?" Trent queried.

"He reminded me of my brother-in-law and he's Italian."

"Great. I need you to do one more thing. Call the police and tell them everything you just told me. And don't touch anything in this room until the police tell you it's OK. Got it?" Trent spoke as slowly as his rapid breathing and pounding heart would allow.

"Yeah, I got it. Hey, you never did tell me, what is this girl to you anyway?"

"The world," Trent said. "The whole damn world."

-----

Trent walked back to his truck, hoping to find a map of Texas in the glove compartment. He wanted to get the lay of the land in this part of the state. The clerk said the man was here about an hour ago. Assuming he was correct, and the guy drove close to the speed limit, he'd have about a sixty-mile head start—but in which direction? For all Trent knew, the guy could have driven to the next highway exit and lost himself in some suburb or he could be on his way to Mexico. He'd never find her without help. It was time to call in the cavalry.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's note:** Beat me, whip me, hit me, make me write bad checks—yes, I know it's been two months, exactly, since my last update. The muse, it turns out, is more fickle than I ever imagined. She actually led me into a whole other fandom—X-Men—(No, really, have you seen Hugh Jackman as Wolverine? Who wouldn't be inspired?) and stuck me there for longer than I would have liked. But the plot bunnies for this story have finally got their act pretty much together, meaning I now know, more or less, what is going to happen. Now, all I have to do is write it down and hope it hangs together as well as I think it will. Updates won't be so few and/or far between in the future. As always, thanks to my amazing beta, Pace Fan, for turning this chapter around in a day and making invaluable suggestions with regard to timeline and a plot detail here and there. I couldn't ask for more. And I'll understand _completely_ if anyone wants to wait a month or two to post their review. It would serve me right.

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 22

Gage had no sooner sent Trent on his quest to locate Callie somewhere in the wilds of Madisonville when his cell phone rang. The caller ID said 'Jules.'

"Hey, Sis, I've been trying to reach you for over an hour. Where have you been?" he posed heatedly as he stood next to his desk.

"Well, hello to you, too, Francis," Julie snapped back.

"I don't have time to be polite, Jules. Ronson escaped yesterday afternoon. We need to get you into protective custody immediately," he replied with authority. He wasn't taking 'no' for an answer. Period.

To his eternal relief, for once, she didn't argue with him.

"What do you want me to do?"

"That depends on where you are right now."

As he spoke, Trivette and Sydney came out of Walker's office. Gage caught Trivette's attention, pointed to the phone and mouthed, "Julie." Both rangers' stopped to listen to Gage's side of the conversation.

"Have you gotten to your interview yet?" he continued.

"I'm in a cab on my way to the _Examiner_ building right now. My interview is supposed to start in twenty minutes," Julie informed him.

"In that case, you have two choices. You can do the interview and we'll have the federal marshals contact you there and escort you to the airport, or you can bag the interview, go straight to the airport and the marshals can come there instead. Either way, a pair of watchdogs has already been assigned to see you safely back to Dallas. All they need to know now is where you're going to be," Gage explained.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

"Jules? Honey? Did you hear me?" Gage wondered if she was formulating an argument after all.

"You said federal marshals. Are we talking witness protection?" she asked shakily.

Gage figured she was somewhere between frightened and furious. His heart went out to her. He knew how hard it was for her to admit being afraid, not just to him, but also to herself.

"No, sweetie, that's not part of the plan. At least not right away," he said soothingly. "The most important thing right now is to make sure you are safe and you show up at that hearing tomorrow. If Ronson isn't back behind bars by then, we can discuss all the available options." It was the best he could offer.

"Tell them to meet me at the airport. I'll cancel the interview. I doubt I could stay focused on any of their questions anyway. Not now. I'm guessing you don't want me going back to the hotel to pack, huh?"

"No, honey, straight to the airport."

With that, Trivette sat at his desk, picked up the phone and started dialing. While he waited for an answer, he tuned in again to what Gage was telling Julie, intending to relay the information to whoever answered at the U.S. Marshals' office.

"They'll meet you at the American Airlines ticket counter. I can try to have one of the marshals go to the hotel and get your stuff, but that will be their call."

Gage made eye contact with Trivette, who nodded his understanding.

"Don't bother. There's nothing there worth going back for. Will you be at the airport when I get to Dallas?"

"No force on earth could keep me away. I'll see you in a few hours. And Sis, I'm sorry about all this. I know how long you've waited for this chance and to have it all shot to hell…"

"It's OK, Francis. You didn't break Ronson out of prison. You didn't make me go after this story in the first place. But you did come to my rescue when I needed you most. Don't feel bad for me. There'll be other jobs. I'll see you in Dallas. Love you."

"Love you, too, Jules. Bye."

Gage stuck his phone in his back pocket and turned to Trivette who was just hanging up.

"They'll call us with the arrival information as soon as they know which flight they'll be taking," Jimmy put in.

"How's Julie holding up?" Sydney asked, gently laying a hand on Gage's arm.

"She's scared. I just can't tell what frightens her more, having Ronson find her or ending up in witness protection," Gage answered, his expression softening involuntarily as he looked down at his partner.

"Well, like I said earlier, we have to make sure it doesn't come to that, either way," she stated.

"Right. So, what were you two working on with Walker?" Gage asked, changing the subject entirely.

"The preliminary report on Ronson's escape," Jimmy told him. "The prison sent over photographs of the delivery driver who traded places with Ronson. Come look at this." He pointed to his computer screen.

Gage walked over and stood next to Jimmy's desk so he could see the monitor. On the screen were two sets of mug shots displayed side by side. The men in the photos could have been one and the same.

Gage read the names under the photos. On the left was Byron James Ronson. On the right was Gerald Roy Wallace.

"Gerald Roy Wallace. He's the driver, huh?" Gage posed.

Trivette typed yet another command on his keyboard and hit 'Enter.'

"Watch this," he said as the photo on the left morphed into a driver's license photo showing an auburn-haired man with green eyes who bore a more than passing resemblance to the black-haired, brown-eyed man on the right. "Check the names."

Gage read the names on the license and the mug shot nameplate. They both said _Gerald Roy Wallace._

"Before and after?" Gage guessed.

"Yep. Wallace actually had plastic surgery, dyed his hair, colored contacts—the whole bit. He is virtually identical to Ronson. If he hadn't panicked and told Ronson's attorney who he was, they might never have discovered the switch," Trivette answered.

Gage whistled through his teeth.

Sydney pondered, "Who would do that? And how long ago must he have done it? Surgery like that takes weeks to heal."

"According to the warden's report, Wallace told the whole story to the lawyer—uh—" Trivette paused to consult a printout of the report, ran his finger halfway down the page and then continued, "Mason Beale. At first, Beale thought Ronson was bucking for some sort of insanity defense, but then Wallace popped out his brown contact lenses and showed him the scars behind his ears and under his hairline. He kept begging Beale to get him out of there. He thought that as soon as they knew he wasn't Ronson, they would let him go. Poor sap."

"I guess Ronson didn't tell him that aiding and abetting is a crime, too," Gage remarked.

"Yeah, too bad for Wallace. Now he's not only stuck with Ronson's ugly mug for the rest of his life, he's stuck in prison for most of the foreseeable future, too," Trivette added.

"Which brings me back to my original question," Sydney interjected, "who would do something that drastic?"

"Someone who was more afraid of Ronson spilling his secrets than of trading places with him, even in prison," Trivette concluded.

Having recently learned a thing or two about the destructive nature of secrets, as well as the restorative power of the truth, Gage had an idea.

"If we could get Wallace to tell us his secrets, it might break Ronson's hold on him. If we could offer a good enough incentive, he might even help us find him."

"You mean like a 'get out of jail free' card?" Sydney chimed in.

"That's _exactly_ what I mean," Gage affirmed, emphasizing 'exactly' by touching the tip of his index finger to the tip of Sydney's nose. "Are you going to call Alex, or shall I?"

"Have at it, partner. It was your idea," Sydney said.

While Gage dialed Alex's number, Trivette was still ruminating on Ronson's escape plan.

"You gotta hand it to Ronson, in a way. I mean, creating a body double for himself, just in case he ever needed one? That's got 'evil genius' written all over it."

"Makes you wonder if maybe there's more than one out there somewhere," Sydney speculated.

"Perish the thought," Trivette replied, and meant it.

-----

Two hours later, Gage, Sydney and Alex arrived at the Dallas County Prison. As part of the sign-in procedure, all three of them turned off their cell phones and left them with the guard at the administrative desk. Sydney and Gage also left their weapons at the guard station.

Another guard led them through a series of barred gates to a corridor containing the prison's visitation rooms.

"He's in here," the guard said, indicating the first room on the right side of the hallway.

The trio looked through the window at the man sitting at the table inside.

"That's downright spooky," Sydney murmured in amazement.

"Yeah, right down to his haircut. Ronson's own mother probably couldn't tell them apart," Gage replied.

"Not without a fingerprint kit," Alex added. "Shall we?" She made a sweeping gesture toward the door.

The guard opened the door and held it while Sydney, Gage and Alex filed into the room. Then he closed the door behind them and waited in the hallway.

-----

The cavalry was pissed.

"What?!" Sean bellowed so loud Trent had to take the phone away from his ear.

Trent silently cursed Gage for not answering his phone. What the hell good was a Texas Ranger whose phone went straight to voicemail? He'd called Collin next and gotten an identical response. Dammit!

He'd had no choice but to call Sean, but he also hadn't hesitated for a moment to do just that. Finding Callie was more important that avoiding the whipping—both literal and figurative—Sean was bound to deliver.

"I said—"

"I heard you, dammit! I wish I hadn't, but I heard you. Good God, Trent, when you screw up, you really screw up, don't you?"

"How is it my fault that some stranger abducted Callie? I got here as fast as I could, Sean!" Trent shouted in his own defense.

"If you had stopped trying to have your cake and eat it too, she never would have left in the first place. You should have done the right thing by her a long time ago."

Trent couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Are you saying you _knew?_ And you pick _now_ to tell me?"

Sean sighed, long and loud. "I first realized it at your birthday party at the ranch last summer. You didn't move more than three feet away from her all afternoon and even an old curmudgeon like me noticed that you touched her a lot more than what a platonic partnership would require. I didn't interfere because I saw how good she was for you, and because neither of you ever let it get in the way of the job."

Trent couldn't remember ever being angrier with his oldest brother than he was right now. Sean had known—hell, he'd _approved_—for months and yet he let Trent go on sneaking around like some cheating spouse. If he'd known the truth was out, he could have given Callie a whole different level of security. They could have at least been open about their relationship with his family if not at the station. She might not have felt so alone, so afraid of losing him.

Of course, that didn't change the fact that he should have stopped caring about who knew what a long time ago. He should have told them all that he and Callie were a couple who just happened to be partners and if they didn't like it they could all go pound sand.

God help him, Sean was right. But sitting around 'shoulding' on himself wasn't going to help Callie now.

"Oh no, the _job_ never suffered one bit. Not that I give a rat's ass anymore about the job. All I care about is finding Callie before it's too late. So, are you going to help me or not?"

"Of course, I'll help you, Little Man. We all will. I can have ten or twenty of the brethren on their way to you in no time. We won't leave a single stone unturned," Sean replied reassuringly, the 'brethren' being his favorite way of referring to their fellow firefighters.

Touched by his brother's heartfelt offer, Trent couldn't help remembering that when they were younger Sean had been his mightiest champion, defending him against all who would seek to harm him, even when that was Trent himself.

As a teenager, Trent had raised rebellion to an art form, drifting aimlessly from one negative influence to another. That was when 'the troubles', as his mother called them, had begun between Sean and him. He was too young and too stubborn at the time to see that he was the one who had changed, not Sean. Back then he believed his big brother—his hero—had given up on him and he'd resented him bitterly for it. Now, a lot older and a tiny bit wiser, he realized he couldn't have been more wrong.

He had to force down a lump in his throat before he could say, "Thanks, Sean, for being there when I needed you, man. Every time."

"Are you gonna stand there blubbering or are we going to come up with a plan to find Callie?" Sean snapped, his own voice quivering a bit. "Have you talked to the local cops yet?" So much for emotional breakthroughs. They were, after all, still Donnellys.

"Only long enough to give them a picture of Callie and tell them about her condition," Trent answered before he realized what he'd said.

"Her condition? Is she sick? Or hurt?" Sean queried.

Trent's stomach clenched. As relieved as he was that his family wasn't going to disown him over the affair with Callie, he knew the next revelation could change everything.

"She's pregnant."

To Trent's utter shock, Sean didn't erupt. Instead he let out a little chuckle and said, "My, my, little brother, I didn't know you had it in you." Then, serious again, he added, "Although I suppose I should be glad one of us does."

"Don't give me too much credit and don't sell yourself or Collin short. You and Olivia only started trying recently, and Collin and Jenna have only been married for two months. Hell, Callie and I weren't trying at all. We were very careful. I still don't know exactly how this happened."

"You mean she didn't tell you?"

"No, _she_ didn't," he admitted shamefully, "and I still wouldn't even know she was pregnant at all if I hadn't traded a few punches with the Texas Ranger she was dating as a cover for us. She was afraid to tell me, Sean, afraid I wouldn't want the baby. God, I am such a numbskull! Going on and on all the time about my precious 'freedom'. Who was I kidding? She's owned me heart and soul since the day I laid eyes on her. She told Gage that I'd think she got pregnant on purpose to force me to marry her. You want to hear the best part? I went to her house this morning to propose to her _before _I even knew about the baby."

"You lost me somewhere around the part about you fighting with a Texas Ranger. Maybe you better back up and start at the beginning," Sean suggested.

Trent rehashed the pertinent details of the previous night and this morning as quickly as possible.

"After our little dust up, Gage got the usage details on Aunt Liz's phone and that led me here—about an hour too late, according to that sorry excuse for a desk clerk." Trent's blood still boiled every time he thought about the sleazy little man's limitless stupidity.

Sean wished he could guarantee that they'd get Callie back quickly, safe and sound, but he wouldn't make promises he couldn't keep. False hope wasn't going to do Trent any good. Still, he had to say something.

"Whatever you do, don't beat anybody else up, especially not another cop. _When _we find Callie, she's going to need you with her, not in some local lockup."

"If anything happens to her or the baby—" Trent stopped suddenly. Sean had no trouble imagining how Trent would finish that sentence—_I'll never forgive myself—_but as it turned out, he didn't finish it at all_._

"Hey, Sean, I have to go. The cops need to talk to me, finally. I mean, I'm only her boyfriend, her partner and the baby's father, right?" he offered sarcastically.

"Collin and I will start calling the brethren right away. I'll call Kathleen and Dad, too. We're all behind you one hundred percent, little brother. You remember what I said; she'll need you with her, so _play nice,_" Sean admonished.

"Don't I always?" Trent shot back.

Sean took that for the pitiful attempt at humor that it was and chuckled softly as the line went dead. He immediately dialed his dad's cell phone, trying to come up with a way to relate the good and bad news to the old man. The good news was Casey Donnelly was finally going to be a grandfather; the bad news was the woman carrying his unborn grandchild had vanished

-----

The sharp, medicinal odor of smelling salts rocketed Callie back to consciousness.

_What the hell?_

She flinched away, trying to avoid the pungent smell, but it seemed to be following her.

"That's enough, Jason. She's awake," a man's voice said. The smelling salts immediately disappeared from beneath her nose. "You are awake, aren't you, Miss Wright?"

Her head throbbed and she was unable to open her eyes. Still, Callie didn't miss the fact that the man had called her by name.

"Who are you? How do you know me?"

"Very good, Miss Wright. Most people start with 'Where am I?' You're one step ahead of that. But you still haven't hit on the sixty-four thousand dollar question yet, have you?"

Callie's mind whirled a mile a minute. Disorientation waned as she took stock of her situation. She sat in a straight- backed wooden chair. Her hands were tied behind her back. Bindings looped around her chest, definitely rope, held her fast to the chair. A silky blindfold secured tightly around her head prevented her from opening her eyes.

"First, you answer _my _question," Callie said, masking her fear with bravado.

"I don't think you are in a position to be dictating terms, do you?"

Callie noticed their voices sounded hollow, sort of echoing around her, making her think she was in a large room with bare walls and floors and not much in the way of furniture. A warehouse, maybe? Or a storage room of some sort?

"OK, I'll play. The sixty-four thousand dollar question is: What do you want with me?"

"Bingo! You are a smart one. Just like the smart bitch that put you in this position. So, how is your future sister-in-law? Nosy as ever, I assume?"

"I have no idea who or what you are talking about." Again, with the bravado. Maybe it was because she couldn't see him, but she really wasn't as scared as she should have been. Mostly, she was ticked off.

"Really? You mean you've never met your boyfriend's sister, the investigative reporter?"

The man obviously wasn't talking about Kathleen Donnelly. She was doing her internship with the Dallas Veterinary Hospital. Trent didn't have any other sisters.

"Look, whoever you are, I am not engaged, so I don't have a future sister-in-law of any kind, nosy or otherwise. So, regardless of whether or not you know my name, it seems you still have mistaken me for someone else. Now, kindly take me back to my motel room, blindfolded if you prefer, and leave me as you found me. God help whoever you're really after, but she isn't me."

Pain exploded across her jaw and shot up into every nook and cranny of her sinus cavities. Her teeth rattled from the blow that would have knocked her out of the chair had she not been tied to it.

Now, she was scared.

"Julie's nosy and you're mouthy. You two should start a comedy act. Only you're not laughing now, are you, Miss Wright?"

It was all she could do not to cry in front of him. No, them. The punch had come from the left, slamming into her left cheek, but she knew her tormentor was standing on her right. What did he call the other guy? Jay? James? No, Jason. That was it. Jason must have been the one who hit her. Jason had fists like rocks.

"Get the shot ready," the evil voice ordered. "Damn! I didn't want to have to dope you up so soon, Miss Wright, but I can't have Jason here bruising your face every time you open your mouth. It will spoil your picture."

A shot? Of what?

_Oh, no, my baby!_

"Wait!" Callie shouted, jerking her head around to face where she guessed Jason was.

"Please, listen to me! I'm pregnant! I'll do whatever you ask, just please don't give me any drugs," she begged, no longer able to hold back her tears.

"Why should I believe you?" the man giving the orders asked.

"I'm telling you the truth. I just found out a few days ago, but I swear I am pregnant. Please, I'll cooperate fully with whatever you tell me to do. I'll keep my mouth shut, I promise. Just please don't hurt my baby."

Callie fought to keep a lid on her hysteria. She'd been in some pretty tough situations before, but most of them involved other people's lives being at stake, not her own, or her child's. Still, she knew that panicking would only make things worse. If she was going to get out of this alive, she was going to have to keep her wits about her.

"So, do we have a deal? I cooperate and you don't use the drugs on me, OK?"

Silence.

"Please!"

His voice slithered out of the darkness. "Cooperation is essential, Miss Wright. One step out of line and nothing you can say will stop me from using any means necessary to get what I want. Do you understand?" he almost whispered, his breath warm on her ear.

"Yes," she answered meekly. It was mostly an act, the timidity. Mostly. She had to make him believe she was completely under his control so he wouldn't feel it necessary to use whatever drugs—_Oh, my God!_

The realization hit her like a bolt out of the blue. Using drugs to keep someone under control; an investigative reporter named Julie. Gage's sister! But this couldn't be the same man who'd drugged Julie. He was in jail. Maybe this was someone who worked for that guy—what was his name? Maybe they had some kind of vendetta against Gage for arresting their boss and they were going to use Callie to somehow get back at Gage.

"Ranger Gage doesn't waste any time, does he, Miss Wright? You two have only been together a short time and you are already pregnant. Congratulations!" he enthused mockingly.

_Oh, hell_. Now, thanks to her, they thought they had an even bigger bargaining chip – Gage's child.

"He doesn't know. I haven't told him yet." It wasn't a complete lie; she hadn't told the baby's father she was pregnant.

"Oh, then won't he be surprised when I tell him I have his lady _and_ his baby. You don't mind, do you, hon? I mean if I give him the happy news?"

"No, of course not, you're the boss," she said obediently as she all but choked on what she really wanted to say.

_You sick bastard! Gage is going to kill you for this!_

Then again, she thought, she really wasn't Gage's lady and it wasn't Gage's child. Their whole relationship had been an act, a pretense perpetrated for so many wrong reasons. What if Gage wasn't willing to risk himself or his sister—or whatever it was this lunatic wanted—to get Callie back? What was she to him, really? Nothing, other than a distant memory that might have already cost him the woman he really loved.

Maybe she should tell these men the truth. If she could convince them they really did have the wrong person, then she would be of no use to them and they would let her go, right? She'd been blindfolded the whole time she'd been here, so she hadn't seen their faces…or had she?

She tried to imagine a face that matched the voice she'd heard, praying she would draw a total blank, but to her utter chagrin, a pair of droopy brown eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses floated up from the depths of her memory. Short, wavy, dark hair, a hawk-like nose and a hard, thin mouth helped fill in the picture.

And then she remembered.

_She wakes to the sound of someone knocking purposefully on her door. She briefly considers ignoring whoever it is or telling them to go away, but the knock comes again, more insistent this time._

_She gets out of bed and goes to the door._

"_Who is it?" she asks loudly through the closed door as she checks to see that the safety chain is in place. Good._

_A man's voice answers. It has a thin, nasal quality. "I'm your next door neighbor. I'm so sorry to bother you, but I'm partially handicapped and I was wondering if you could help me with one of my bags."_

"_Can't the desk clerk help you?"_

"_He wasn't in the office, but I guess I could try to walk all the way down there again and wait for him. It's just that walking is painful for me and I've already made the trip there and back once. Oh, well, I guess it can't be helped. Thanks, anyway."_

_She can hear the distinctive thump of a cane amid the man's halting steps as he starts to slowly walk away. She feels guilty for letting her caution override her compassion. She opens the door, leaving the safety chain in place, and calls out to him._

"_Wait! Let me get my shoes on and I'll come help you."_

_He turns around and smiles at her. "Oh, thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."_

"_Be right there," she assures him and then closes the door. After putting on her sneakers, she unlatches the safety chain and opens the door._

_Her neighbor is there, filling the door frame and blocking her exit. Gone are the stooped shoulders, the limping gait. He barrels into the room, forcing her backwards so quickly that she loses her balance and falls, landing hard on her bottom. Before she can even react, he grabs her by the shoulders and hauls her to her feet. His grip is remarkably strong; he's hurting her._

_She twists her body abruptly, breaking his hold. She grabs the first thing she sees – her open suitcase – and hurls it at him as she lunges toward the bathroom. With one massive arm, he knocks the luggage aside and dives forward, cutting off her escape._

_She turns to run for the front door, snatching the lamp off the desk and throwing it behind her. Again, he deflects her makeshift weapon, finally catching her braid in his hand and pulling hard. She yelps in pain and stands still as he tightens his grip on her hair. He moves closer. She can feel his chest pressing against her back, his thighs brushing her rear. His other arm snakes around her waist and his hand slides up her belly toward her chest._

_Her flesh is crawling. She inhales deeply, preparing to scream, but the hand in front clamps not on her breast but her throat and begins to squeeze._

"_Be quiet, pretty lady, or I will snap your neck like a twig," he threatens icily. "Understand?"_

_She nods. He lets go of her throat, but his fingers remain tangled in her hair. She feels him reach into his pants pocket, a movement he exaggerates so he can run the back of his hand along her ass while he's at it. The bile rises in her throat. For an instant, she considers letting herself puke, but then thinks better of it and fights off the nausea with a couple of deep breaths._

"_Oooh, sounds like you're as hot as I am," he whispers huskily, seriously misinterpreting her heavy breathing, "but we mustn't dally; the boss is waiting."_

_With that, he runs his tongue along the curve of her neck as he brings his free hand up to clamp a handkerchief across her nose and mouth. As her face begins to tingle and her legs turn to rubber, she looks up to see her horrified reflection in the mirror over the dresser and then the world goes black. _

As her recollection coalesced in her throbbing head, Callie did a mental inventory of all her aches and pains, taking special note of her private parts, and was relieved beyond measure to conclude that she had not been raped. Nothing hurt, other than her head and her jaw, and as far as she could tell without actually looking, she was still wearing the same clothes she had on at the motel. She doubted that would have been the case had one or both of these men had their way with her while she was unconscious.

So, she'd been forcibly kidnapped and brought here, wherever here was, by one man acting on specific instructions from the other. The question still remained, why? And what did it have to do with Gage and his sister?

"You know my name, and I heard you speak to Jason, but you haven't said who you are," Callie stated matter-of-factly.

"All in good time, Ms. Wright, all in good time," the smooth voice replied. "For now, the three of us will be taking a short walk to the roof of this building. It's time to show your boyfriend what's happened to his little family."

--End Chapter 22


	23. Chapter 23

Author's Note: If you are reading this, you must be a very kind and forgiving soul to not have abandoned this story altogether. I am eternally grateful. I can make no promises as to when the next chapter will appear, but rest assured that I am hellbent on finishing this story before the New Year, or as soon thereafter as is humanly possible.

Thank you to one and all who have read and/or reviewed previous chapters. Your patience, I swear, will be rewarded. --Wendie

* * *

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 23

Dallas Fort Worth Airport was busy, as usual. Gage and Sydney stood together in the baggage claim area closest to Gate 23, where Julie's plane was due to arrive any minute.

"Hey, there they are!" Gage waved at his sister through the huge windows that separated the baggage claim area from the main concourse.

Julie started to push her way through the revolving door, but one of the marshal's took her by the elbow and switched places with her, keeping her between him and his partner as they passed through the door.

"Francis!"

"Julie!"

The siblings hugged like they hadn't seen each other in months. No one would have guessed they'd spent the evening at the same birthday party less than twenty-four hours ago.

"Oh, Jules, I am so glad you're OK," Gage said softly, revealing the depth of his concern for her safety.

"I'm fine, little brother. These gentlemen are very good at their jobs," she replied, nodding toward her traveling companions.

"You must be the Texas Ranger team we've been hearing so much about," said the taller of the two marshals.

"All of it good, I hope?" Sydney replied as she shot a questioning look at Julie while shaking hands with each of the men.

"Of course. Ms. Gage spoke very highly of both of you. I'm Frank Bennett and this is my partner, Jack Stoneman."

"Call me Stoney," the shorter, younger man offered.

"Hi, Stoney, I'm Sydney Cooke and my partner goes by Gage. Julie's the only one he lets call him Francis."

"Are we waiting for your luggage, or is this it?" Gage asked his sister, indicating the carry-on overnight bag she'd been wheeling behind her.

"No, this is it. We're outta here," Julie replied. She hated airports and usually traveled as light as possible, so as to avoid spending any more time in them than absolutely necessary.

"I'm afraid we can't leave yet," Frank announced.

"Why not?" Julie asked.

"We have to hand you over to the Dallas protection detail. They were supposed to meet us here. Guess they got hung up."

"You don't trust two Texas Rangers, one of whom is my brother, to watch over me?" Julie's incredulity bordered on outrage.

"Ma'am, like it or not, you are our responsibility and we take that very seriously. If it were up to me, personally, Stoney and I would say hasta la vista and head for the nearest authentic Mexican cuisine, a delicacy I rarely get to experience in San Francisco. However, it isn't up to me."

Just as Julie opened her mouth to object again, Sydney's cell phone rang.

"Syd."

"Hey, Sydney, is Gage with you?" Trivette asked hurriedly.

"Yes, of course, we're at the airport meeting Julie's plane. What's wrong?"

"Tell Gage to turn on his phone and check his messages."

"You mean he didn't—"

Turning to her partner, Sydney said, "You forgot to turn on your phone when we left the prison. Jimmy said you need to check your messages."

Gage yanked the phone out of his pocket and hit the power button. Sure enough, he had twelve messages waiting, all from Trent Donnelly.

"How did Jimmy know about this?" Gage asked Sydney who handed him the phone so he could ask his own questions.

Still clutching his own phone in his right hand, he held Sydney's in his left hand and repeated the question for Jimmy's benefit.

"How did you know about this?"

"Trent called here looking for you. Apparently, he's been trying to reach you since this morning, something about Callie not being where you thought she was. He said—"

_Beep. Beep. _

Gage's phone beeped, indicating that he had just received a text message. Reflexively, he tuned Jimmy out as he turned his attention to his own phone and hit the button to open the message. What he saw made him forget Jimmy altogether.

There on the screen was a picture of Callie Wright, bound and gagged, wearing a sign around her neck that read, 'Call me.'

Rage and fear raced through Gage's body with equal speed.

"Son of a bitch!" he bellowed, drawing shocked looks from his companions and several other airport patrons.

"Francis, what is it? You're pale as a sheet!" Julie exclaimed.

Gage tossed Sydney's phone back to her and then turned his around so she and the others could see the image displayed on the screen. In catching her phone, Sydney also closed it, accidentally hanging up on Trivette.

"Oh my God!" was the collective, but not simultaneous response to Callie's picture. The outburst bounced around the luggage area like a round robin of incredulous surprise.

Sydney's phone rang again.

"Syd."

"He hung up on me," Jimmy said flatly.

"Sorry, that was actually me," she apologized hastily, "but that's not important now. Listen, Jimmy, Gage just got a text message, a photo of Callie, bound and gagged, with a note around her neck that says 'Call me.' We're going to forward the photo to you—" She caught Gage's eye, pointed at her phone.

He nodded his understanding and began punching buttons to send the photo from his phone to Jimmy's email at headquarters. When he finished, he dialed his voice mail to listen to the messages from Trent, all twelve of them.

"Can you try to figure out where she is? Maybe blow the picture up and look for landmarks. It looks like she's on a roof somewhere," Sydney informed him.

"I'm on it as soon as it gets here. I'll fill Walker in. Are you guys coming back here or going with Julie to the safe house?"

"For the time being, we're stuck here waiting on the Texas detail from the federal marshals. The San Francisco contingent can't release her to us, so we have to wait for their guys to get here."

"Get back here as soon as you can. I know Gage won't want to leave Julie with the marshals, but you may not have a choice. He should be here when he makes that call to Callie."

"Got it. He's checking his messages from Trent now, although from the look on his face, he's not hearing anything that will help find Callie," Sydney said, noting the scowl that seemed to darken more and more the longer Gage was on the phone.

Sydney finished up with Trivette and pocketed her phone, keeping a watchful eye on Gage, who was pacing like a caged lion since closing his phone and shoving it in his back pocket. She didn't know what Trent had said, but whatever it was, it had her partner more riled up than she had ever seen him.

Before she could tell him about getting back to headquarters ASAP, a rather long, tall shadow fell over the whole group. The sunlight streaming in through the exterior doors was blotted out by a very tall man in a gray suit and a creamy white Stetson hat.

Montoya immediately identified his charge as the attractive blond woman—make that _very _attractive blond woman—standing near Rangers Cooke and Gage and two men whose nearly identical dark suits and short haircuts pegged them as U.S. marshals.

As Julie turned with the rest of the group to inspect the imposing figure in the doorway, her gaze collided with the most captivating dark brown eyes and the most dashingly handsome face she had ever seen.

A low, velvety voice announced, "Ms. Gage, I believe I'm the ride you're waiting for."

Blatantly looking the hunky cowboy up and down, Julie stifled the impulse to murmur, _You're a whole lot of things I've been waiting for._

She couldn't help but notice that he never flinched even the tiniest bit under her frank scrutiny. In fact, she could have sworn he was enjoying it, which made him either appealingly self-confident or annoyingly arrogant. She hoped it was a long ride to the safe house; she needed time to find out which it was.

"Miguel?" Sydney blurted out. "What are you doing here?"

"As I said, I'm here to take Ms. Gage to the safe house."

"You know him?" Julie whispered surreptitiously as she sidled up behind Sydney, who gave a quick nod without turning around or otherwise drawing attention to Julie's question.

"And you are…?" Frank Bennett interjected, stepping forward and pointedly not offering to shake hands with the tall stranger.

"Sergeant Miguel Montoya, with the Texas State Police," Miguel stated, handing Bennett his badge and ID. "I've been assigned to Ms. Gage's security detail temporarily."

Julie's mood darkened a little at the word 'temporarily'. Damn!

"Not according to our orders," Bennett shot back, still wary of this unexpected change in plans as he returned Montoya's credentials.

"Check your phone messages. There'll be one from your boss telling you he asked my captain at the Whitesboro barracks for backup. Your Dallas office has been all but shut down by the swine flu. If the marshals aren't sick then their kids are, so nobody was available today. I'm your man."

Julie almost swooned at the image _that _statement conjured.

While Bennett and Stoneman both checked their messages, Julie yanked Sydney toward the ladies' room, tossing "Be right back," over her shoulder as they disappeared through the bathroom door.

"Who is _that?"_ Julie demanded. "I mean besides the man I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"Miguel Montoya. State cop. Widower. No kids. Great guy. Now, if you don't mind, your brother is about to blow a gasket out there, so I really need to go now," Sydney said as she flung the door open to find Gage and Miguel standing right outside the doorway. Bennett and Stoneman were nowhere to be seen.

"…last information we have is this photo that I just got less than ten minutes ago," Gage finished and handed Miguel the phone as Sydney shouldered her way between them, shooting a 'do you mind?' look at her fiancé. A flash of his trademark grin turned her frown upside down.

"So, I take it you got everything straightened out with the marshals?" Sydney inquired of Miguel.

"Yes, they listened to their messages and said to tell you they were off in search of good Mexican food," Miguel answered distractedly, still engrossed in examining the photo of Callie. "Something about that roof she's on looks familiar to me. It's a very distinctive shape, but I can't place where I've seen it. It looks almost New Mexican, like maybe Taos or Santa Fe, but unless they took her there by plane or helicopter, they couldn't have gotten that far just since this morning."

He handed the phone back to Gage. "I'm sorry. I wish I could remember if that place is anywhere around here." Turning to Sydney, Miguel asked, "Where's Ms. Gage?"

"Making herself presentable, I suspect," Sydney said with a sneaky grin and a glance toward the ladies' room door.

A hard look from Gage wiped the smile off of Sydney's face.

"I'll get her," she said, but it turned out to not be necessary as Julie emerged from the bathroom just then, her hair freshly combed and a new coat of gloss sparkling on her lips.

"Finally! Sis, a woman's life is at stake here. We really don't have time to wait around while you fuss with your makeup!" Gage blurted out more forcefully than he intended.

His outburst caught Julie off guard. Her cheeks flushed and tears filled her eyes as she stammered, "I'm…uh…I'm sorry, Francis. I was just…uh…never mind. I'm sorry; you're right."

"Oh, Jules, honey, no, I'm sorry," Gage said, contrition written all over his face as he hugged his big sister. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. It's just…"

"I know, little brother, you don't have to explain. You and Syd should go. Go find her," Julie said, stepping out of the embrace.

"Montoya, if anything happens to my sister on your watch, there won't be a hole anywhere on this planet deep enough for you to hide in, you got that?" Gage stated coldly as he shook the trooper's hand one last time, his gaze locked on that of the taller man.

"Loud and clear, Ranger, loud and clear. If she were my sister, I'd feel the same way," Miguel replied, staring Gage down as he silently added, _If she were my sister I'd have to arrest myself right about now for some of the things I've been thinking ever since I laid eyes on her._

Miguel immediately chastised himself for even allowing such thoughts to form in his head. Julie Gage was a witness under his protection and he had no business thinking of her any other way, even if she did have the brightest blue eyes and loveliest face he'd seen in a long, long time.

_Snap out of it, Montoya!_

The tall sergeant picked up Julie's overnight bag and nodded curtly toward the door.

"We should go. We've got about a forty-five minute drive to the safe house, longer if the traffic through Dallas is bad," he noted matter-of-factly. It was an effort not to smile at her, but he managed. No use in getting friendly. He'd probably never see her again after he dropped her off at the courthouse tomorrow morning anyway. Dammit.

"Can you give me a minute?" she asked, mildly piqued at his almost gruff tone.

"Sure. I'll wait in the car. It's the dark blue SUV right outside these doors. Sydney, always a pleasure," he said, brightening a bit as he gave the female ranger a friendly hug.

"Don't mind him. He knows she's in good hands," Sydney whispered as she gave him a squeeze in return.

Miguel turned and all but ran from the building so she wouldn't see his strained expression as he fought to dispel the mental image of Julie's petite body in his big, strong hands.

"You did what?!?" Julie exclaimed as she broke away from her brother's embrace.

"You heard me. I asked Syd to marry me and she said 'yes', didn't you, honey?" Gage repeated, drawing his partner against his side and beaming down at her.

"That's right. I did. I don't know what got into me; I must have completely lost my head," Sydney teased.

"It's this one who would have lost his head," Julie affirmed, nodding toward her brother, "if he hadn't wised up, 'cause I would have knocked his block off. You're the best thing that's ever happened to him."

"Thanks, Julie. I really—"

_Honk. Honk._

"Is he kidding? Honking at me? Who does he think he is? My husband?"

"Perish the thought, Jules," came the steely reply. "I mean it."

"Of course, little brother, of course."

Gage and Sydney walked Julie to the car and waved as she and Montoya drove away.

The couple wasted no time in getting to Sydney's Jeep and making their way back to headquarters. Sydney drove while Gage studied the photo of Callie, trying to find something, _anything,_ they could use to locate her. But the only things he could see in the photo were Callie, the odd, sort of stair-step outline of the building's roof line and the clear blue sky. He hoped Trivette was having better luck.

He couldn't stop looking at the picture. He could see the terror in her eyes and it made his blood run hot with fury.

A thought that had been nipping at his brain like a Chihuahua pestering a Doberman suddenly sank its teeth into his consciousness.

"Oh, shit! Oh, my God, Syd, she's not blindfolded! She's looking right at me!"

Sydney let the revelation sink in before she spoke. "And that means she's looking right at whoever took the picture. Oh, Jesus, she's seen them," she said solemnly.

Both partners knew what that meant. Callie's chances of being released alive had just gone from slim to none.

"Maybe you better call Trent back and tell him what we know," Sydney offered. Her heart broke for Callie's boyfriend. He had to be out of his mind with worry by now.

"Oh, man, I know he's going crazy waiting to hear from us, but I can't call him yet. Not until we talk to these jokers and find out who they are and what they want. All we can tell him now is that she was alive as of whenever this photo was taken, and that ain't much. For all we know, the picture is hours old. He doesn't need false hope. I'd rather wait until we have something solid to go on, even if it's only a ransom demand or whatever the hell it is these bastards want."

When they got to headquarters, thirty minutes after leaving the airport, they found Jimmy and Walker in their typical pose—huddled in front of Jimmy's computer.

"Anything? Did you identify the building?" Gage asked hurriedly.

"Not yet. I've got a contact down at City Hall tracking down all the structures with atypical roof lines in the Metroplex, but that's going to take a while."

"Damn, I was hoping we could get one step ahead of these idiots before I made that call," Gage lamented.

"Wait a second," Sydney said, laying a hand on Gage's arm. "Maybe we know more than we think we do."

"What do you mean, Syd?" Walker asked.

"Ronson escaped from prison yesterday and today the woman the whole world thought was Gage's girlfriend—until last night—gets kidnapped. That's a pretty big coincidence, don't you think?"

"It sure is, and God help us all if you're right, but we can't assume anything. Once he makes that call, we'll know for sure," Walker replied.

Gage knew in his gut Sydney was right, but that didn't make his next move any easier. He took a deep breath and dialed Callie's cell phone number.

_Ring. Ring._

"I have your woman," said a voice way too deep to be Callie's.

In that split second, Gage had an irrational attack of sheer panic. He looked around frantically for Sydney, only to find her standing right behind him. Relief washed over him but was swiftly replaced by a flood of anger.

"Who is this?" he demanded, fully aware of the man's identity, but not wanting to tip his hand.

"Don't you know?" came the smooth reply.

Gage's mind clicked through the available facts and probable scenarios in a microsecond. He'd called Callie's phone. Ronson was doing the talking. He said he had 'his woman' but Sydney was right here. Why would Ronson believe he and Callie were a couple? Ronson must have had someone following Gage, either in an attempt to locate Julie or to get to him personally. They must have seen Callie with him and assumed that she was his girlfriend, his woman. The murdering son of a bitch was using Callie as bait, but what did he actually want? Julie's whereabouts? Or maybe Julie's files?

Either way, he'd just bought himself a whole can of whoop-ass and Gage was just the guy to dump it all over him.

"If you hurt her, Ronson, so help me God, I'll rip your worthless heart out!"


	24. Chapter 24

_Author's Note: A THOUSAND APOLOGIES, MY FRIENDS, FOR TAKING LONGER TO UPDATE THAN IS EVEN REMOTELY DECENT. This chapter has actually been finished for some time, but I was holding on to it, waiting for Chapter 25 to be done, so that it wouldn't be another millennium between updates, but I got a very sweet request from AlexisKing4ever to please get on with it, so that's what I'm doing. About the last third of this was going to be the first part of Chapter 25, but, with apologies to my wonderful beta, Pace Fan, who hasn't seen any of the Ch. 25 stuff yet, I decided I'd rather put it here instead. I should be finished with the 'real' Chapter 25 by this weekend, but don't hold me to that. You know how I am--and amazingly, some of you still love me anyway. This chapter begins with the last line of Chapter 23, in case everybody forgot where we left off...(and who could blame you?)_

_Oh, and if anyone out there lives in or knows anyone who lives or works in Deep Ellum in Dallas, please understand that I meant no offense in my characterization of some of the residents of that neighborhood. I've been there many times and it's actually a pretty cool place filled with, shall we say, off-beat individuals. For the purposes of the story, however, I took some literary license that some folks might feel is rather unflattering. Again, I meant no offense.  
_

* * *

Should Have Been Me – Chapter 24

"_If you hurt her, Ronson, so help me God, I'll rip your worthless heart out!"_

Walker shot Gage a stern look of disapproval for his emotional outburst. The elder ranger had taught him better than to lose his temper with any suspect, let alone one as dangerous and unpredictable as Ronson. If Gage didn't simmer down—quick—Ronson could hang up and destroy any chance they had at using the phone connection to locate Callie. Walker spoke volumes without saying a word as he pointed at Jimmy, whose fingers were flying over his computer keyboard. A look of understanding passed between the two men before Walker turned his attention back to Jimmy and his efforts to pinpoint the whereabouts of Callie's phone.

Gage heard Jimmy saying something to Walker about using both cell numbers on an active call to triangulate the position of one or both phones. Or not. Chasing down the user details on Liz's and Callie's phones was no trick, but this stuff was pure computer voodoo to Gage. He didn't give a rat's butt how they did it; he just hoped they'd get it done in time.

Gage knew Walker was right. He shouldn't have lost control like that, but he meant every word he said. He was seething with anger—and guilt. If anything happened to Callie it would be his fault. Ronson never would have targeted her if Gage hadn't talked her into their phony relationship. He'd never forgive himself if they didn't get her back alive. And he'd never rest until Ronson was behind bars—or dead.

"Temper, temper, Ranger Gage," Ronson quipped, pulling Gage's focus back to their conversation. "Be nice or I won't tell you Callie's special little secret."

_Secret? Oh, hell, Callie, you didn't tell him you're pregnant, did you? _With men like Ronson, any weakness, any vulnerability was like the scent of blood to a shark. It always brought out the worst in them.

"How about you take that gag off so she can tell me herself?" Gage returned.

"Nice try. The only proof of life you're going to get is that photo, which the time stamp on the message log will show was taken less than an hour ago. As you can see, she's very much alive."

"An hour's a long time, Ronson. Let me talk to her. You're still holding all the cards."

"Yes, I am. No dice, Gage. You do as I say or she dies…and takes your baby with her."

Silence.

_Dammit!_

"Surprised? Or not sure it's yours? Your relationship did move rather quick—"

"Shut up! Of course the baby's mine!"

From behind him Gage heard someone suck wind like they'd just been punched in the gut. Whirling around, he came face to face with Trent Donnelly.

_Double dammit!_

Now what was he going to do? He had to keep the ruse going so Ronson would go on believing Callie and the baby were precious to him. Without that connection, they would become totally expendable, especially since Callie could identify him. But Trent didn't know that.

Instinctively, Gage dropped into a fighting stance, even while holding the phone to his ear, bracing himself for the punch he figured Trent was about to throw. Hell, if he was in Trent's boots, he'd sure want to clock somebody right about now.

Before Trent could wind up and swing, the two men on either side of the tall Irishman went into action, each grabbing one of Trent's elbows and diffusing the volatile exchange before it had really begun.

"Maybe we better wait outside," the shortest of the three said and turned to maneuver Trent back toward the door. Trent started to protest, but a swift kick to his shin from his other handler silenced him.

Gage looked around for Sydney, hoping he could get her to fill Trent and company in on the kidnapping, but before he could locate her, Ronson demanded his attention once again.

"…struck a nerve, eh? How can you be so sure you're the daddy?" the smooth-talking criminal was saying. "Or are you telling me you deflowered this sweet, young thing?"

Ronson's referral to '_this _sweet young thing' made Gage think the son of a bitch was looking at her, maybe even touching her…

It took every ounce of self-control Gage possessed not to rise to the bait.

What he wanted to say was a catchy, oft-repeated phrase that implied Ronson could do the biologically impossible. What he wanted to _do_ was blow Ronson's brains out. Sadly, he had to settle for keeping the bastard talking.

"What is it you really want, Ronson?" he asked in a venomous tone as he finally spied his partner coming out of Walker's office carrying a printed copy of the photo of Callie on the roof.

Crossing the room in three long strides, Gage caught her by the hand and directed her attention to Trent and company who were just exiting the office. She nodded and started to walk away, but Gage tugged on her hand again, forcing her to stop and look at him. He scowled down at the photo and shook his head.

"Got it," she mouthed silently as she squeezed his hand and then laid the photo face down on her desk. They both knew that picture was the last thing Trent needed to see right now.

Reluctantly, Gage let go of her hand and focused once again on Ronson's voice.

"… trade your little family-to-be for your sister's files. Of course, I'd rather have your sister herself, but I don't have much time and I'm willing to be practical."

Gage pictured Julie and Montoya driving through Dallas, probably along I-75, heading north toward the safe house in McKinney.

"I don't have the files and as for my sister, she's out of your reach."

While some hostage negotiators were known to promise a kidnapper the moon with no intention of ever delivering on the pledge, Gage had always found that telling the truth went a lot further to build trust in the criminal mind than making promises they both knew were false anyway.

"Really? Then I should offer my condolences, because the only way Julie's out of my reach is if she's _dead, _which is just how you will find your girlfriend if you don't bring me those files."

"I said I don't…"

"I know the DA has the files. How you get them is your problem. You have until midnight to get them for me or I will let my associate have his way with the little mother. You remember Mr. Smalls, don't you? And as for your sister, you have no idea how long my reach is. Rest assured, Ranger, I have very special plans for her. I will deal with her however and whenever I choose and there won't be a thing you can do to stop me."

_Click._

It was all Gage could do to keep from hurling the phone at the nearest wall.

* * *

By the time Sydney got out into the hallway, Trent's brothers had released their hold on him. He was shaking with fury when he looked up and saw Sydney.

"Are you pregnant, too?" Trent shouted at her, jabbing a finger at her accusingly.

Stunned into silence by the abrupt personal question, the brunette ranger just gaped at him.

He moved closer, still pointing at her.

"Because if you're not, then your boyfriend just laid claim to my kid! What the f—"

In one lightning fast motion, Sydney grabbed Trent's hand, spun him around and pushed him into the wall. Throwing all her weight forward, she pinned him there with his arm twisted up behind his back. He struggled briefly, to no avail.

"Now you listen to me!" Sydney snapped as she leaned into him, anchoring him in place.

Sean and Collin exchanged a look of wide-eyed appreciation, not only for the petite ranger's quick reflexes, but also for her sheer strength. Trent was no pushover, especially when he was angry.

Although he stopped struggling, he continued to glare down at her, his blue eyes blazing with hatred and blame.

"He's talking to the man who took Callie, isn't he? Someone contacted him about Callie and he didn't even tell me!"

"Trent, shut up and let the lady talk. I think she's here to tell us what's happening. Isn't that right, Ranger…?" Collin, always the peacemaker, let the question hang.

"Cooke. I'm Sydney Cooke, Gage's partner."

"We're Trent's brothers. I'm Sean and this is Collin," the older of the two men said, pointing to the younger, shorter version of himself.

"If I let go, will you behave?" Sydney asked her prisoner.

"Would you, if this were happening to him?" Trent shot back, nodding toward Gage who had just come out into the hallway.

"No need to get testy, Trent," Gage said. "Nobody was intentionally keeping you out of the loop. Come on back inside and we'll fill you in on everything we know so far."

"Damn straight you will," Trent shot back as Sydney let go of him and backed away. "And don't let me hear you referring to my child as yours ever again or it'll take a whole lot more than your partner and my brothers to keep me off your sorry ass."

Sydney half expected Gage to read Trent the riot act, but he surprised her by reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder instead.

"I know how that must have sounded to you, and I'm sorry you had to hear it like that. Nobody, and I mean _nobody_, wants to bring Callie and the baby back to you safe and sound more than I do. But there are things you don't know yet, things that'll be as hard for you to hear as they are for me to say. You just have to trust that everything I say and do is all about ending this nightmare for you and your family. Can you do that, Trent? Can you trust me to find Callie and bring her home?"

On second thought, Sydney decided, Gage's display of compassion wasn't surprising at all. His big heart was one of the things she loved most about him.

Trent nodded, exhaustion and worry plain on his face, his throat working at swallowing his unspent anger.

"Just don't leave anything out," he said. "And don't tell me to stay out of it and let you do your job. I can't sit on the sidelines, Gage, or I'll go crazy."

"We came to help, Ranger Gage, and we've got every firefighter and EMT in the Metroplex ready to jump in, too. Just say the word and we're with you," Sean offered, extending a hand to Gage. "By the way, I'm Sean Donnelly and this is Collin."

Gage accepted handshakes from both men, who greeted Sydney in similar fashion.

The office door opened and Jimmy stuck his head out.

"If you folks will all come back inside, I think we can get everyone up to speed now," he said.

As the Donnelly men turned to walk back to Company B, Gage caught Sydney by the arm and held her back.

"Hey, Syd, hold on a sec. I need to talk to you," he said as he tugged her a few steps farther down the hall. He shot Jimmy a look that said 'Give us a minute' which the other ranger acknowledged with a nod. Then Jimmy stepped inside behind Trent and his brothers and closed the door.

"What's up, partner?" Sydney asked.

"I just wanted to make sure you're OK with what I told Ronson about the baby. You understand why I had to say that, right?"

"Of course, I do. Callie's life depends on Ronson believing you two are a couple. I get that you'll do whatever you have to do to keep her alive. Don't worry about me."

"Good, I'm glad you feel that way," he said as he bent down to whisper his next words against her ear. "Because the only person I want to make babies with is _you_."

A chill went up her spine as his husky voice conjured images of the two of them, their bodies entwined, naked and desperate with need. Her knees went weak and she swayed against him, her arms locking around his waist to keep from falling.

He hugged her to him as a chuckle rumbled against her ear.

"Are you that anxious to get started?" he asked, having completely misunderstood her reaction.

When it came to sex, Sydney wasn't just anxious.

She was downright terrified.

But she wasn't about to tell him that. At least, not now, so she played along as though he'd hit the nail right on the head.

"You have no idea," she replied, hoping she sounded more sultry than sarcastic.

Again, he leaned down to whisper into her ear. "I've got _lots _of ideas, Syd."

On 'lots', the tip of his tongue grazed her ear and a pulse of electricity shot through her entire body. Her skin seemed to shrink and her nipples hardened. Apparently, her body wasn't the least bit afraid, but her mind reeled at the concept. She shoved herself away from him, hoping he hadn't noticed her arousal.

The mixture of desire and confusion in his eyes told her she hadn't moved fast enough.

Sydney grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward the office.

"Well, then, we better hurry up and solve this case, hadn't we?" she quipped, her enthusiastic tone disguising her private fear.

"Whatever you say, babe," Gage mumbled in return as he let her lead him back through the door.

As she sat at her desk and waited for Walker to begin the briefing, Sydney silently cursed herself both for her secret inhibitions and her shamelessly wanton—and completely out-of-character—behavior in her hallway this morning. What had she been thinking? Nothing, that's what. For those few heady moments, she had forgotten to be afraid of the intimacy and simply reveled in the exquisite sensations Gage awakened in her, delicious feelings she didn't even know she was capable of until today.

It had been wonderful, for as long as it lasted, but that had been hours ago. She'd had plenty of time to think since then, and to allow all her fears to resurface. Gage obviously knew his way around the bedroom, and after this morning he probably thought she had at least some experience with intimacy. She didn't want to think about how disappointed he would be when he learned the truth.

*~*~*~*

Flanked by his brothers, Trent sat at the table in the Company B conference room with his head in his hands. He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell and cry and pound his fists into something, anything—a blond Texas Ranger was looking good right about now—to take away the awful, aching despair that was eating him alive.

A five-mile radius. That was the best they could do, Ranger Trivette had said, the closest they could get with their phone trace before that convict hung up on Gage. Five miles! Which meant the search area was actually ten miles across…in downtown Dallas…with Deep Ellum smack in the middle of it. With less than five hours until Ronson's deadline, even with every firefighter and law enforcement officer in the city going door-to-door, they'd never find Callie in time, not in that part of town.

An enclave of art galleries, night clubs and trendy eateries, Deep Ellum also boasted more than its fair share of tattoo parlors, strip bars and sex shops. The area was also pockmarked with dozens of empty warehouses and abandoned restaurants, proof that in hard financial times, luxuries like funky art and gourmet pizza fell to the bottom of most folk's priority lists.

Even worse, the way Gage had described Ronson and Smalls—hardened, career criminals who'd stop at nothing to avoid going back to prison—they'd fit right in with the local residents, most of whom weren't known for their high moral character or their civic mindedness. Nobody in that neighborhood would even look twice at them, let alone be eager to hand them over to the cops.

"Is that all you've got? I mean, how do you know…how can you be sure she's…she's still…" Trent's throat closed on what he couldn't say, could barely even bring himself to think.

A look passed among the four rangers that made the hairs on the back of Trent's neck stand up. They knew something they didn't want to tell him.

_Oh, God. Please, God…_

"She's alive, Trent," Gage stated calmly. "As of two hours ago, Ronson sent us proof—"

"What? What is it?" Trent shot to his feet. Images too horrible to process zoomed through his head…bloody fingers…severed ears…no, those weren't proof she was alive…were they?

More hesitant looks passed across the table.

"For God's sake, Gage, tell me!" he yelled, oblivious to the angry tears spilling down his face.

Sean laid a hand on his arm. "Trent—"

The younger man jerked out of his brother's grasp and turned on him like he was the enemy.

"No, dammit! It's _his_ fault she's in trouble!" he said, pointing an accusing finger at Gage. "She's out there somewhere, alone and pregnant and with God knows what happening to her _right now_, because you talked her into your stupid game. Is that the part that was supposed to be as hard for you to say as it was for me to hear? That none of this would be happening if you hadn't paraded her around as your girlfriend?"

Deep down, Trent knew he was as much to blame as Gage. If he'd acknowledged his relationship with Callie, even to his family if not on the job, she'd never have gone out with Gage. A simple 'no' from him is all it would have taken to keep her from going through with the ruse. But he'd agreed and that made him as guilty as sin.

But right now, that didn't matter. Right now all Trent wanted—what he _needed_ more than his next breath—was to assure himself that Callie was still breathing. And he didn't care whose feelings he had to hurt to make that happen.

Gage had trouble meeting Trent's eyes, but when he did, the torment Trent saw in Gage's face took the edge off his fury.

"Please, Gage, whatever it is, it can't be as bad as what my imagination is doing to me," Trent said in a much more civil tone.

Gage made eye contact with his partner and nodded. Sydney left the room briefly and returned with an 8x10 color photograph that she handed to Gage.

"This is a copy of a photo Ronson sent to my phone about two hours ago. I got it about a minute after I found out that you had been trying to call me all day. It's the first I knew that Callie was in trouble. I'm sorry, Trent," he said as he held the picture out for Trent to see. "You'll never know how sorry—"

Trent snatched the photo away so quickly it startled Gage, who jumped back and bumped into Sydney hard enough to knock her off balance. Before Gage could catch her, she fell on her keester.

"Whoa!" she cried as she tumbled backward.

In a split second, five men crowded around her all asking slightly different versions of the same question.

"Syd! Are you OK?" Gage's voice carried above the others.

"I'm fine. I'd be able to stand up, too, if y'all would just _back off,"_ she barked. Like the Red Sea under Moses' command, the group parted to give her the space she requested.

The only one who hadn't run to her rescue was Trent. He was standing across the table from her, holding the photo up at about shoulder height and pointing at the oddly shaped roof with his other hand.

Sydney heard him say something about the unusual structure…couldn't they identify…not many like it…solid clue…but she wasn't listening.

From her position on the floor, she saw the image at a new angle, a _familiar_ angle. She had looked up at that unique roof before. She was sure of it now. She couldn't place exactly where it was—or when—but if Trent would just hold the damn picture still—

"Upsy-daisy, Syd," Gage said as he hauled her up. She'd been concentrating so hard on the picture that she hadn't noticed him shifting around behind her and sliding his hands under her arms.

"Wait—" she protested as he stood her on her feet and then slid his arms around her waist from behind. He squeezed her middle, pressing her backside against his gun holster—that hard object was his holster, wasn't it?—and planting a quick kiss behind her left ear. Her knees seemed to disappear into thin air as his warm breath caressed the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

Of course, he chose that very second to let go of her. She swayed—forward, thank God—and gripped the edge of the table to keep from falling on her butt twice in the same two minutes.

She whipped her head around, intending to glare at him—vehemently—but the sheepish shrug and goofy 'couldn't-help-myself' smile he gave her stole her thunder. In the end, she scrunched her eyebrows together in as much of a scowl as she could manage while trying not grin back at him—and failing.

_Grin._

Oh, hell.

Looking around to see if anyone else caught their little romantic exchange, Sydney saw that Walker, Jimmy and Sean had left the room. Trent was sitting in his chair again, talking quietly to Collin who was hunkered down in front of the chair.

"Did you see her eyes? She looked so scared. Like a child, like a frightened, lost child. And that bruise on her face? Some son of a bitch hit my girl, Collin, and I wanna kill him—" Trent's fists clenched as tightly as his jaw.

Collin laid a hand on his brother's neck and pulled him close until their foreheads were touching.

"I know, little brother, I know. And I get that it's killing you to think of her alone and scared and needing you, but you have to hold on to the fact that she's alive. Callie is one of the strongest people I've ever met. Reminds me a lot of Mom that way, ya know?"

A suggestion of a smile wafted across Trent's face. "Yeah, me, too."

"So you have to be strong now, too, for her. Wherever she is, I know that she's doing everything she can to get back to you, regardless of how scared she is. And we are going to turn this whole city upside down if that's what it takes to find her. We will find her, Trent. I swear to you, we will, but you have got to keep it together." Collin stood up and pulled Trent into a fierce, brotherly hug, then grasped him by the shoulders and held him at arm's length.

"Now—" Collin started, but stopped when he saw Walker step back into the room followed by an attractive blond woman dressed in a gray pant suit and carrying a brief case.

"Trent, I'd like you to meet A.D.A. Alex Cahill. She's prosecuting Ronson. The files he's demanding in exchange for Callie are the ones she's planning to use to nail him to the wall," Walker explained.

Before the elder ranger could include Collin in the introductions, Trent rounded on Alex. His tone walked a thin line between insistent and menacing.

"You mean _was _planning to—as in, not anymore, because you're giving them to Ronson to save Callie. Isn't that right, Miss A.D.A.?"

End Chapter 24.

**Next: One Ranger breaks the most sacred rule of partnership...solo is a no-no.**


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